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Personal Background
George Russell Dartnell and the town of Penetanguishene:
George Russell Dartnell (1800 - 1878) travelled north to Penetanguishene from Barrie on Lake Simcoe and Couchicing to the site of present day Orillia. Then he travelled overland to the Coldwater River where he could then proceed by canoe to the river's outlet at Matchedash Bay into Georgian Bay. He must of visited the village of Coldwater, which had opened its first post office as early as 1830, and also served as Indian agency from that year until it was transferred to Manitoulin Island in 1836. From the shore near Coldwater, it was about thirty kilometers around the coast to the garrison at Penetanguishene. Dartnell was "good company" - an amusing raconteur, and a keen chess player. he probably spent many evenings in the officers' mess room at the military Establishment, around a table in front of the fireplace. Perhaps it was the spirit of camaraderie that prompted Dartnell, or a group of officers together, to compose the poem about Penetanguishene.
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| Drawing of Penetanguishene Bay, sketched by G. R. Dartnell |
Penetanguishene
To ye who tir'd of wars alarms
In Garrison or Camp
Are sighing for the many charms
Or who on board batteaux or Ship,
Delight to vent your Spleen,
I hereby recommend a trip
To Penetanguishene
Oh!' tis the place for youth Sprigs
Whose epaulettes grow dim,
With City wear, whose rose-oil'd wigs
Want combing into trim
Whose elbows are little out-
Such things have often been-
They will be better'd by a bout
Of Penetanguishene.
'Tis here you learn true jollity,
And scorn the march of mind
And live in fond equality,
With beasts of ev'ry kind:
The Indian, with his scalping Knife,
Diversifies the Scene,-
Oh! tis a mighty pleasant life,
At Penetanguishene
You shake a wild cat by the fist,
When in your path he halts,
With Beavers take a hand a Whist,
And gallopade & waltz,
With shaggy bears - Who when you roam,
Afar in forest green
Remind you that your nearest home
Is Penetanguishene.
Upon the article of grub
You must lay little stress
For here with grief the starving Sub
Bemoans head quarter's mess
His pound of junk & Tommy bare
But makes a dinner lean,
For surfeits they are very rare,
At Penetanguishene.
And then for swipes, poor D-1, he
Must look & feel quite glum,
Since now a Sober Treasury,
has dock'd the nation rum;
Unless it be with maple juice,
A drink that's thin & mean
He cannot shake a top-screw loose
At Penetanguishene.
[The words and pictures are the property of their respective owners] |
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