The Maple Leafs are falling

The Maple Leafs are falling
On foreign soil again,
Scattered cross the desert
By an unforgiving wind.

This land is barren, unprotected,
Unlike his fields of wheat;
The sand is so unlike his Maritimes,
No majestic Rockie peaks.

He hears a lone Piper now,
Black boots marching through the snow,
The warm drape of the Maple Leaf,
Tells him all he has to know.

Four winds have gently cast the Leaf,
To land on home terrain,
Flying freely there, he will declare,
His death was not in vain.

J.S. McGregor