What ho? A Canadian visitor? Judging by the sporran, kilt, and bagpipes, he is on tour. About that kilt, hmmm…perhaps if a serviette were dropped, one could retrieve it from the floor and answer that question once and for all.
Our mates to the south, we don't choose.
But the borders we share, interfuse.
To look, you can't tell
That we're different. Oh, well,
They can't even pronounce the word "bus."
They're constantly giving us orders.
About how to police our own borders
Their attentions should span
Their own problems at hand,
And their various public disorders
We LOVE our American neighbors
Though they rant and they rattle their sabers.
They're still our good friends
Though their means serve their ends.
And who else could survive all their labors?
Comments on Canadian Humour Page