Jules Verne, that brilliant son of France,
Astonished all with wild romance;
Around the world in eighty days,
This tale it doth no more amaze.
For the Canadian Pacific
Runs her cars at speed terrific;
Her steamers swiftly plow the seas,
Which gives to us our cheap, fine teas.
For she is bound to lead the van
With her short, quick route to Japan;
And proudly she may glory vent
In highway to the Orient.
From a small sprout these leaves they grew,
And bard now bids you kind adieu.