Will not forget George Parson’s name. 
And I would be worse than a Turk,
Did I forget George Robert Burke,
A man who mingled not in strife,
Nor ever did in all his life
An act to cause a blush of shame
On any face that bears his name! 
Nor can I Archie Foster pass,
Too soon departed, too, alas! 
A man of feelings warm and kind—­
A friend who never left behind
A friendly act, if in his power
To act the friend in trouble’s hour,
Ah! ’twas a melancholy day
When Archie Foster passed away. 
And now a man with learning’s grace
And mildness pictured in his face
Stands forth in retrospection’s ray
As if it was but yesterday,
It is the good Hugh Hagan’s shade
Who’s precepts many a scholar made. 
Nor would my reminiscent eye
While scanning erudition’s sky,
Fail to perceive through cloud and storm
Friend James Maloney’s stately form—­
A fixed star in the Teacher’s heaven
Since the old days of ’27,
When learning’s every art and rule,
In the old Mathematic School,
According to education laws
He taught—­and ne’er forget the “taws.” 
The handle was just two feet long,
And well he trounced the noisy throng! 
At the west border of the swamp
Where cedars grew mid mosses damp,
Just at the corner where to-day
Ben Huckell doth his name display,
In other days dwelt William May,
A member of the old “Alliance”
Which easily put at defiance
The conflagrations that were seen
“Like Angel’s visits far between,”
For Bytown then was almost free
From an Insurance Company! 
Poor fellow! by a sudden stroke
Death’s gloomy shadow o’er him broke,
Upon that well remembered day—­
When the old town was wild and gay. 
From verdant vale to sunny ridge,
On which the new Suspension Bridge
Was opened—­and crowds congregated
To see it then “inaugurated.” 
To use a word from Uncle Sam,
The concourse was a perfect jam. 
’Twas built by Alexander Christie,
From the land of mountains misty;
And though the whirlwind and the storm
For years have revelled on its form—­
Though ponderous loads for many a year
Have passed it o’er from from far and near,
It stands in strength unshaken still,
A monument of art and skill;
Long may the builder dash the tide
Of Jordan’s swelling surge aside;
And when the lot of all mankind
Overtakes him, may he safely find
A bridge across to Canaan’s shore,
To pass in peace death’s valley o’er. 
While rambling backwards up life’s hill,
I meet the stern Paul Joseph Gill,
A man with much tuition fraught,
Who youth at the old creek side taught,
Where Thomas Dowsley doth display,
His maps of land for sale to-day. 
Paul Joseph Gill could with a frown
Keep juvenile offenders down;
His ruler flat I can’t forget,
My fingers seem to tingle yet,
As recollection o’er me brings