My seventy-six geared wheel

O how I long for solid roads in the merry month of June;

The birds they all sing gaily, all nature seems in tune.

Vacation is my happy time, how jolly I will feel

A-spinning down to Rustico on my seventy-six geared wheel.

I'll start in early morning and in an hour's ride

I'll spin into that little town, they call it Summerside

I'll take a couple of glasses there, which makes my head soon reel,

And the road gets strangely smoother for my seventy-six geared wheel.

Then on I go like Gallagher at my very level best,

And the next place that I come to, they call it Traveller's Rest,

Then Kensington does bring me up, you bet I'll merry feel

From travelling at such mighty speed on my seventy-six geared wheel.

I'll just drop into Clark's Hotel and there I'll rest a while,

Then on I'll press to Margate, a distance of three miles.

Then pleasant thoughts into my head involuntarily steal,

Until I arrive at Clinton on my seventy-six geared wheel.

Then Stanley Bridge comes next in view and a pretty place it is,

And when I cross the railroad track, you bet I'll let her whiz.

Then taking straight a southeast course past Simpson's and McNeil's

Until I arrive at Rustico on my seventy-six geared wheel.

Then opening up the garden gate I gallantly do score

Up the marble pathway and to the big front door.

There Mary, smiling sweetly, stands, you'll bet I'll happy feel

When I alight into her arms from my seventy-six geared wheel.