Freedom for long was licence
in this unopened land;
But that has gone forever
Restraint is in command.

The lack of conservation
Has thinned our land of game.
Moose, caribou, and beaver,
to many are a name.

The great flocks, of wild pigeons
have simply ceased to be,
Their memory a legend
from East to Western sea.

We have our fields and pastures;
our cosy dwellings new
Our well kept roads and bridges,
and other comforts too

The pleasures that have vanished
we may sometimes regret
But that is simply foolish
We have no cause to fret.

Wider, and ever wider,
our forest clearings grow.
The slaughter of the forests
doth many changes show.

our brooks and streams grow smaller,
and some just disappear.
Our rivers too have shrunken,
save when springtime draws near.

Deep boiling springs have altered,
to shallow muddy pools.
And some have grown quite stagnant.
Decay their water rules.

The speckled trout no longer
swarm in our brooks and streams.
Though little lads still fish them
It is mostly in their dreams.

Salmon and shad grow scarcer
with every coming year.
No longer are they common.
They soon may disappear.

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