James McIntyre (baptised 25 May 1828 – 31 March 1906), called The Cheese Poet, was a Canadian poet.
McIntyre was born in Forres, Scotland and came to Canada in 1841 at the age of 14. He worked as a hired hand to begin with, performing pioneer chores that formed the basis of a number of his works. Later, he settled in St. Catharines, Ontario, where he dealt in furniture. There he married and had a daughter and son. He later moved to Ingersoll, Ontario, then a town of 5,000 on the banks of the Thames in Oxford County, the then-heart of Canadian dairy country. He opened a furniture factory on the river as well as a store which sold furniture, along with such items as pianos and ... more »
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James McIntyre Poems
Oxford Cheese Ode
The ancient poets ne'er did dream That Canada was land of cream, They ne'er imagined it could flow In this cold land of ice and snow,
Ode on the Mammoth Cheese
We have seen the Queen of cheese, Laying quietly at your ease, Gently fanned by evening breeze -- Thy fair form no flies dare seize.
American Poets: Longfellow
Like fruit that's large and ripe and mellow, Sweet and luscious is Longfellow, Melodious songs he oft did pour, And high was his Excelsior.
Prophecy of a Ten Ton Cheese
In presenting this delicate, dainty morsel to the imagination of the people, I believed that it could be realized. I viewed the machine that turned and raised the mamoth cheese, and saw the powerful machine invented by James Ireland at the West Oxford companies factory to turn the great and fine cheese he was making there. This company with but little assistance could produce a ten ton cheese. Who hath prophetic vision sees
Our muse it doth refuse to sing Of cheese made early in the spring, When cows give milk from spring fodder You cannot make a good cheddar.
Irish Poets: Oliver Goldsmith
Goldsmith wrote Deserted Village, Now again reduced to tillage; Once happiest village of the plain, Place now you look for it in vain;
When this country it was woody, Its great champion, Mrs. Moody, She showed she had both pluck and push, In her work, roughing in the bush.
Hints to Cheese Makers
Addressed to Jonathan Wingle, Esq. All those who quality do prize
If you are sulky, Nova Scotia, We'll gladly let you float away From out our Confederation; You sicken us with sily agitation.
Father Ranney, the Cheese Pioneer
When Father Ranney left the States, In Canada to try the fates, He settled down in Dereham, Then no dairyman lived near him;
Windmills and Stone Stables
Cows suffered in the days of old For want of water and from cold, Now of good water they have fill For it is pumped by the windmill.
The farmers now should all adorn A few fields with sweet southern corn, It is luscious, thick and tall, The beauty of the fields in fall.
English Poets: Shelley
Lines Read at a Dairymaids' Social, 1887
Where the young lady waiters were dressed as dairymaids. Throughout the world they do extol
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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Edgar Allan Poe
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Oxford Cheese Ode
The ancient poets ne'er did dream
That Canada was land of cream,
They ne'er imagined it could flow
In this cold land of ice and snow,
Where everything did solid freeze,
They ne'er hoped or looked for cheese.
A few years since our Oxford farms
Were nearly robbed of all their charms,
O'er cropped the weary land grew poor
And nearly barren as a moor,
But now the owners live at ease
Rejoicing in their crop of cheese.
And since they justly treat the soil,
Are well rewarded for their toil,
The land enriched by goodly cows,
Yie'ds plenty now to ...