It is not Hamilton, a place in which my granddad enthused over

In his semi-waking dreams and in which, even as a small boy, I knew

He would rather have stayed, grown old in and perhaps

Even rather have passed

Away peacefully in the comfort of a town

That he once had played baseball and swam across its neighbouring lake.

Montreal he had only mentioned as a place that he had seen once,

From the deck of one ship and then from the deck of another

When the family left Canada to come to England via