They were exiles all
All gathered together from different parts of the earth.
And each one told of some favorite ruler
Of the land that gave him birth.
Said Pierre of France,
“Now here is a picture of the queen of my land;
Note the exquisite beauty of Marie Antoinette
And the beautiful, well-formed hand.”
“Aye! Beauty is little,” the Scotsman cried,
“It will not save from the hangman’s knot.
Just look at this face where goodness is seen,
’Tis Mary, queen of the Scots.’”
The Englishman smiled and quietly said,
“I too, have a picture to show;
’Tis the noble face of Victoria the Great,
The Queen of the high and the low.”
Pat McCormick was the only one there
Who came from the land of the Green.
“Now boys,” said he, “I’d like ye to see
The face of Ireland’s queen.”
“She is noble and good, gentle and true,
This queen of the dear old sod.”
And he drew from his pocket the beautiful face
Of Mary, the Mother of God!