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Edgar Guest - The Princess Pat’s
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  A touch of the plain and the prairie,
    A bit of the Motherland, too;
  A strain of the fur-trapper wary,
    A blend of the old and the new;
  A bit of the pioneer splendor
    That opened the wilderness` flats,
  A touch of the home-lover, tender,
    You`ll find in the boys they call Pat`s.

  The glory and grace of the maple,
    The strength that is born of the wheat,
  The pride of a stock that is staple,
    The bronze of a midsummer heat;
  A blending of wisdom and daring,
    The best of a new land, and that`s
  The regiment gallantly bearing
    The neat little title of Pat`s.

  A bit of the man who has neighbored
    With mountains and forests and streams,
  A touch of the man who has labored
    To model and fashion his dreams;
  The strength of an age of clean living,
    Of right-minded fatherly chats,
  The best that a land could be giving
    Is there in the breasts of the Pat`s.
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