Here you will find the Poem Oxford Cheese Ode of poet James McIntyre
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 fill their mows, Both wheat and barley, oats and peas But still their greatest boast is cheese. And you must careful fill your mows With good provender for your cows, And in the winter keep them warm, Protect them safe all time from harm, For cows do dearly love their ease, Which doth insure best grade of cheese. To us it is a glorious theme To sing of milk and curds and cream, Were it collected it could float On its bosom, small steam boat, Cows numerous as swarm of bees Are milked in Oxford to make cheese.