Agriculture and Farm Life

PROVINCIAL EXHIBITION 1896

by William Irving Thompson, Dunstaffnage, P.E.I.

Just to the east of Charlottettown, And on some rising ground,

And facing toward the Hillsborough A charming spot is found.

And yearly there is held a fair

That all may see and know,

Prince Edward Island takes the lead Whatever wind may blow.

To demonstrate to small and great, And prove conclusively

Prince Edward Island is a gem,-

A garden in the sea.

And now it’s Autumn at the Park, And Exhibition week,

And for a scene more grand and gay, In vain we long may seek.

The spacious buildings, decked with flags

Appear in royal state;

While eager crowds from near and far Press in at every gate.

They come from Marshfield and from York,

And Dunstaffnage fair;

The men and maids of Tracadie

Will not be wanting there.

From Union and from Brackley Point And Winsloe too they come,

And on their way from Wiltshire Hills They greet the rising sun.

From fair DeSable by the sea And Elliott’s bank of green, Comes many a sturdy yeoman Behind a prancing team.

From Murray Harbour and Belfast, Orwell and Pownal Bay,

The horses, bikes and carriages Are choking up the way.

They come from Fort Augustus hills, From Pisquid and Dromore,

And from Glenfinnan’s wooded banks And Johnston’s marshy shore.

From Fortune Bay and Cardigan, St. Peter’s and Morell,

They’re coming by the hundred This human hive to swell.

They come from Malpeque in the north Bedeque and Egmont Bay

And men and maids of Cascumpec Will see the fair today.

Like a meteor in the night,

A whirlwind on the plain,

From Albenon and Summerside Speeds on the western train, —

Each car well filled with passengers 0r loaded down with freight,

All bound for town, upgrade and down They ride a merry rate.

The dark-eyed sons of Rustico, Whose bread is in the deep, Who fearless ride an angry tide That they may sow and reap.

Have left their fishing boats behind With sails and hatches down

And with the men of Cavendish Have steered their course for town.

They come from Tignish in the west, Whose steeples pierce the sky,

And from the east where on the rocks The angry billows die;

And from the north where ceaseless waves

Beat high upon the sand

And seem to say “some future day We’ll swallow up the land.”

And pastors, judges, statemen, now Have banished every care

And mingling with the sons of toil Are taking in the fair.

So men from every walk in life, From every class and creed, Are posting on to Charlottetown By bike, or rail, or steed.

-l77—

Shame on the RE. Islander

That tarries by the way,

And fails to see the wondrous sights On exhibition day.

For there God’s gifts to man are seen Fresh from the tree and field

By sun and rain and brawn and brain Brought to maturity.

And there His law’s effect and cause Are seen on every hand

Whether it be in raising stock

0r cultivating land.

Whether it be in fruit we see

So pleasing to the taste

0r flowers we view of every hue God’s hand can still be traced.

And as we move from place to place And fresh attractions find

This thought should rise above the rest Is not our Father kind?

Long may our Island home be famed For flowers, grain and fruit;

Long may our horses, sheep and kine Be held in high repute.

Yet better far a thousand times That this our land should be

The home of those who wrong oppose With truth and verity.

Courtesy of Wilfred Thompson