War of 1812 Bicentennial

On the sacred scroll of glory,

Let us blazen forth the story

Of a brave Canadian woman, with the fervid pen of fame;

So that all the world may read it,

So that every heart may heed it,

And rehearse it through the ages to the honor of her name.

In the far-off days of battle,

When the musket's rapid rattle

Far re-echoed through the forest, Laura Secord sped along

Deep into the woodland mazy,

Over pathways wild and hazy,

With a firm and fearless footstep and a courage staunch and strong.

She had heard the host preparing,

And at once, with dauntless daring,

Hurried off to give the warning of the fast-advancing foe;

And she flitted like a shadow

Far away o'er fen and meadow,

Where the wolf was in the wildwood and the lynx was lying low.

From within the wild recesses

Of the tangle wildernesses

Sounds mysterious pursued her 'long the winding forest way

And she heard the gutt'ral growling

Of the bears, that, near her prowling,

Crushed their way through coverts gloomy, with their cubs in noisy play.

Thus for twenty miles she travelled

Over pathways rough and ravelled,

Braving danger for her country like the fabled ones of yore,

Till she reached her destination,

And forewarned the threatened station

Of the wave that was advancing to engulf it deep in gore.

Just in time the welcome warning

Came unto the men, that scorning

To retire before the foemen, rallied ready for the fray;

And they gave such gallant greeting,

That the foe was soon retreating

Back in wild dismay and terror on that glorious battle-day.

Few returned to tell the story

Of the conflict sharp and gory

That was won with brilliant glory by that brave Canadian band,

For the host of prisoners captured

Far outnumbered the enraptured

Little group of gallant soldiers fighting for their native land.

Braver deeds are not recorded

In historic treasures hoarded,

Than the march of Laura Secord through the forest long ago;

And no nobler deed of daring

Than the cool and crafty snaring

By the band at Beaver Dam of all that well-appointed foe.

But we know if war should ever

Rage again o'er field or river,

And the hordes of the invader should appear within our land,

Far and wide the trumpets pealing

Would awake the same old feeling,

And again would deeds of daring sparkle out on every hand.