The memory of the Red Man,
How can it pass away,
While their names of music linger
On each mount and stream and bay;
While Musquodoboit's waters
Roll sparkling to the main;
While falls the laughing sunbeam
On Chegoggin's fields of grain;
While floats our country's banner
O'er Chebucto's glorious wave,
And frowning cliffs of Scatarie
The trampling surges brave;
While breezy Aspotogan
Lifts high its summit blue,
And sparkles on its winding way
The gentle Sissibou;
While Eskasoni's fountains
Pour down their crystal tide;
While Ingonish's mountains
Lift high their forms of pride;
Or while on Mabou's river
The boatman plies his oar,
Or the billows burst in thunder
On Chickaben's rock-girt shore?
The memory of the Red Man,
It lingers like a spell
On many a storm-swept headland.
On many a leafy dell;
Where Tusket's thousand islets
Like emeralds stud the deep;
Where Blomidon, a sentry grim.
His endless watch doth keep.
It.mw-parser-output .nowrap,.mw-parser-output .nowrap a:before,.mw-parser-output .nowrap .selflink:before{white-space:nowrap} dwells round Catalone's blue lake,
Mid leafy forests hid,
Round fair Descouse and the rushing tides
Of the turbid Pisiquid;
And it lends, Chebogue, a touching grace
To thy softly flowing river.
As we sadly think of the gentle race
That has passed away forever.