They’ve taken Sir John’s statue down,
Where it stood, Victoria town.
No guts to harm it to its face,
They’ve cached it in a secret place.
From Asia came the natives first,
To kill John’s spirit, have a thirst.
Those that came just after ice
Do not think that John was nice.
Canadians! He brought us here,
With tracks and spikes and without fear.
He had his warts, it’s true; they say
He drank a bottle every day.
And now to fill his vacant space,
A person without warts in place?
Albert Reeve, Gibsons