Crossing Ontario
On one of grand-dame's old blue bowls
There sailed a maid and her Lothario,
'Twas you and I — so Time unrolls —
Crossing the blue bowl of Ontario.
These trails of smoke are but pipe-wreaths
Blown out by some occult Canadian
Who o'er this bowl of coffee breathes
In after-dinner bliss Arcadian.
Oh, yes, a quite extensive bowl!
Perhaps he lifts it by some leverage,
But then it's not so large, dear soul,
For you to sweeten all the beverage!
That French girl has such pretty lips —
Were I the guardsman, I would want to —
Keep still? All right. The blue bowl tips!
And we are landed in — Toronto.
There sailed a maid and her Lothario,
'Twas you and I — so Time unrolls —
Crossing the blue bowl of Ontario.
These trails of smoke are but pipe-wreaths
Blown out by some occult Canadian
Who o'er this bowl of coffee breathes
In after-dinner bliss Arcadian.
Oh, yes, a quite extensive bowl!
Perhaps he lifts it by some leverage,
But then it's not so large, dear soul,
For you to sweeten all the beverage!
That French girl has such pretty lips —
Were I the guardsman, I would want to —
Keep still? All right. The blue bowl tips!
And we are landed in — Toronto.
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