The Bugles of Canada

[In war time a Canadian Division was encamped near my
house.  I used to fashion their bugle calls into the names of their
distant land.  Hence these verses.]

The Farmer in the morning
Stood with slanted head,
In the wintry dawning
By the milking-shed;
From the camp behind the hill
He could hear the bugles shrill,
"We are here!  We are here!
Soldiers all!
Good cheer!  We are near!
Ontario!  Ontario!
Toronto!  Montreal!"

Petherick, the Huntsman grey,
Rheumatic, bent and blind,
Wheezed his joy as far away
He heard it in the wind.
"Hark the Hounds!  Hark the Hounds!"
Nay, it is the bugle sounds,
"We are here!  We are here!
Soldiers all!
Good cheer!  We are near!
Ontario!  Ontario!
Toronto!  Montreal!"

Lonely folk and fearful
Rose above their fears;
Mothers, sad and tearful,
Were smiling through their tears;
'Neath the cloudy English sky
They heard the cheering bugles cry,
"We are here!  We are here!
Soldiers all!
We are near!  Good cheer!
Ontario!  Ontario!
Toronto!  Montreal!"

When the dusk was falling,
And the lamps alight,
You could hear them calling
In the misty night.
And old Sussex heard and blessed
The kindly greeting from the west,
"We are here!  We are here!
Soldiers all!
We are near!  Good cheer!
Ontario!  Ontario!
Toronto!  Montreal!"


Sir Arthur Conan Doyle