They were composed in April 1828, and sung by one of the members of this society at a public dinner that year, after the toast of "Lord Aylmer and the Colonies." The idea was suggested to the young law student by looking upon a map showing the territory explored by the Cabots and called Cabotia.

The writer will be readily recognized as one of New Brunswick's most eloquent, gifted, and favored statesmen, recently holding the highest position in the Province:-- When England bright, With Freedom's light, Shone forth in dazzling splendor, She scorned to hold, The more than gold, From those who did befriend her; At space she spurned, With love she burned, And straight across the ocean Sent Freedom's rays, T' illume their days And quell their sons' commotion.
Hail, Britannia! Thou loving, kind Britannia! Ne'er failed to wield Thy spear and shield.
To guard our soil, Britannia! But rebels choose For to refuse, The boon thus kindly granted, And with vile art, In many a heart, Black discord's seeds they planted; Now civil war, In bloody car, Rode forth--and Desolation, Extended wide, Its horrid stride For mock emancipation.
O Cabotia! Old England's child Cabotia! No rebel cloud[3] Did e'er enshroud Thy sacred soil, Cabotia! The purple flood Of traitors' blood Sent vapors black to heaven, And hid the blaze Of Freedom's rays, By a kind parent given; But Liberty, Quite loath to see, America neglected, Came to our land, And with kind hand Her temple here erected; O Cabotia! Them favored land, Cabotia! While we have breath We'll smile at death, To guard thy soil, Cabotia! When foreign foes We did oppose, Britannia stood our second, And those we fought Were dearly taught, Without their host they reckoned; And should they now, With hostile prow, But press, our lakes and rivers, The Giant-stroke, From British oak, Would rend their keels to shivers.
And thou, Cabotia! Old England's child Cabotia! Would see thy race In death's embrace Before they'd yield Cabotia! While Shamrock, Rose, And Thistle grow, So close together blended, New Brunswick ne'er Will need to fear, But that she'll be befriended; We need not quake, For nought can break The sacred ties that bind us, And those, who'd spoil Our hallowed soil, True blue are sure to find us.
O Cabotia! Our native land, Cabotia! For thee we'll drain Our every vein, Old England's Child Cabotia! [Footnote 3: Long before the Canadian Rebellion.] Here the St.Andrews Society also gave their national celebration.

Last, but not least, came the St.Patrick Society.

The last named might, indeed, be called _the_ Society.

Aided and encouraged by Colonel Minchin, Hon.