THE PRINCESS PAT'S

A touch of the plain and the prairie,

A bit of the Motherland, too;

A strain of the fur-trapper wary,

A blend of the old and the new;

A bit of the pioneer splendor

That opened the wilderness’ flats,

A touch of the home-lover, tender,

You'll find in the boys they call Pat's.

The glory and grace of the maple,

The strength that is born of the wheat,

The pride of a stock that is staple,

The bronze of a midsummer heat;

A blending of wisdom and daring,

The best of a new land, and that's

The regiment gallantly bearing

The neat little title of Pat's.

A bit of the man who has neighbored

With mountains and forests and streams,

A touch of the man who has labored

To model and fashion his dreams;

The strength of an age of clean living,

Of right-minded fatherly chats,

The best that a land could be giving

Is there in the breasts of the Pat's.