Let the Student of Nature in rapture descant,
On the Heaven's cerulean hue;
Let the Lover indulge in poetical rant,
When the eyes of his Mistress are blue.
But fill high your glasses—fill, fill to the brim,
I've a different toast to propose:
While such eyes, and such skies, still are beaming for him,
Here's a health to the jolly Blue Nose.
Let the Frenchman delight in his vine-covered vales,
Let the Greek toast his old classic ground;
Here's the land where the bracing Northwester prevails,
And where jolly Blue Noses abound.
Long—long may it flourish, to all of us dear,
Loved and honoured by hearts that are true;
But, should ever a foe chance his nose to show here
He shall find all our Noses true Blue.