The ancient poets ne'er did dream <br />That Canada was land of cream, <br />They ne'er imagined it could flow <br />In this cold land of ice and snow, <br />Where everything did solid freeze, <br />They ne'er hoped or looked for cheese. <br /> <br />A few years since our Oxford farms <br />Were nearly robbed of all their charms, <br />O'er cropped the weary land grew poor <br />And nearly barren as a moor, <br />But now the owners live at ease <br />Rejoicing in their crop of cheese. <br /> <br />And since they justly treat the soil, <br />Are well rewarded for their toil, <br />The land enriched by goodly cows, <br />Yie'ds plenty now to fill their mows, <br />Both wheat and barley, oats and peas <br />But still their greatest boast is cheese. <br /> <br />And you must careful fill your mows <br />With good provender for your cows, <br />And in the winter keep them warm, <br />Protect them safe all time from harm, <br />For cows do dearly love their ease, <br />Which doth insure best grade of cheese. <br /> <br />To us it is a glorious theme <br />To sing of milk and curds and cream, <br />Were it collected it could float <br />On its bosom, small steam boat, <br />Cows numerous as swarm of bees <br />Are milked in Oxford to make cheese.<br /><br />James McIntyre<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oxford-cheese-ode/
