Classic Poem

About a quarter of a century ago, when Port Burwell was a
busy, thriving place, several friends accompanied me to
the port to attend a concert, we all being specially invited.
It was in the winter, and there had been a race on the
ice, in which the Port Burwell horse took the lead. We
gave a local piece of some length, but only retain now a
few lines. The people at the concert were highly pleased
with the effusion.

In winter time, who here resort
To pay a visit to your famous port,
They must be clad in fur well,
For it blows cold at Burwell.

But when you wish to trot your horse
You make lake Erie your race course,
And we believe at every heat
All other horses you do beat.