O Quebec! Do Remember Me When I'M Gone

A man who is yet to find for himself a maiden Absolute success yet, is he to find. If a sailor on his compass, found A permanent route without a storm enclosed, Thither eternally, his route may be. A maiden, a sweet thing is And you, my found maiden of course is Gibraltar of America, many call thee by But--------- My maiden laid ashore the golden Sea, Yore of days, I’ve adored thee. Tho’ a pauper boy me ---------still, a string of topaz for thy neck In the stormy and rainy African nights I labored hard to inherit. O fair maiden of mine, I respect thee. A man who respects a lady not Shouldn’t be blessed with a lump of gold For he’ll never know its worth, When a lady, The unique eximious and exclusively expensive Heavenly precious stone --------he had failed to treasure most. O Quebec! My maiden laid ashore the golden Sea I’ve always dreamt of hugging thee Hoping when to Africa, with me you had come In my mud molded room, Behind my old raffia patched door --------on my new wunwuned mat, we’ll both lay; But now, old age is what I rapidly approach My head, gray hair will soon arrest I fear that, Kissing thy red lips, I may never get to do And lo! Marrying thee, that as well, I may never do But even in my heart, when in my 6feet home I finally lay interred, The memory and love of thee, still I’ll bear. My maiden laid ashore the golden Sea --------incase thy lips before I die I never get to kiss, O Quebec! Do Remember Me When I’m Gone.