I’m not a lumberjack, or a fur trader.
And I don’t live in an igloo, or eat blubber, or own a dogsled.
And no, I don’t know Jimmy, or Sally, or Suzie from Canada,
Although I’m sure they’re really, really nice.
I have a Prime Minister, not a President,
I speak English and French, not American,
And I pronounce it “about,” not “a boot.”
I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack.
I believe in peacekeeping, not policing,
Diversity, not assimilation,
And that the beaver is a truly proud and noble animal!
A toque is a hat, a chesterfield is a couch
And it is pronounced “zed.” Not “zee,” “zed!”
Canada is the world’s second largest landmass,
The first nation of hockey,
And the best part of North America!
My name is Joe,
And I am Canadian!
I’m not unemployed, or smuggling cigarettes across the border.
I don’t eat Pepsi and May West for breakfast
I don’t watch the hockey game doing it doggie-style
And I don’t know Claude, Manon, or François from Abitibi-Témiscamingue ,
But I’m sure they all have nice teeth.
I smoke in Church.
I speak Québecois in joual, not French or English.
I pronounce it “tird,” not "third,"
And eating French fries with cheese makes sense, mon ostie.
I believe in distinct society, as long as someone else pays for it.
I believe in language police, not equal rights, and, câlisse,
I believe that Club Supersex is an appropriate place for my wife and me to celebrate our anniversaire.
What the Hell, she goes on in ten, anyway.
In Québec, the Stanley Cup actually comes around more often than Halley’s Comet,
I can get beer at the dépanneur, not at the convenience store
And maybe I can’t turn right on a red light, but, tabernak, I can go right through it!
Because Québec is the world’s largest producer of maple syrup
The home of Céline Dion, and Roch Voisine
The land where everybody is shackin’ up
And the legal drinking age is just a suggestion
Je m’appelle Guy, and I am not Canadian.
Mautadit, tabarnak, ostie.
Merci, salut la visite
Canadians are a US national treasure, indeed.
I hope the Newfoundlanders and Labradorians never loose their
Oh man, literally all my favourite Canadian vids are coming out of the woodwork now
It’s pretty close to reg ol Aenglisch sounds. Think how different the deep south is from New England, or CA.
Any idea if the sound has some French-Canadian roots, oui? non?
I’ll throw him a shoutout too. We hardly see you, but thanks for keeping the site awesome Ken!
I’ve been considering a temporary move (for school) to those upper reaches of Canadjia. I feel like Americans must stick out like sore thumbs somehow.
I realize it’s a copy’n’paste from youtube but:
“I don’t eat Pepsi and May West for breakfast”
“Callise” would be pronounced callize, it’s câlice (or câlisse). It requires a long ‘a’.
It’s ‘mautadit’, an elongated version of maudit.
Roch Voisine is a Brayon, not a Quebecker.
And that last one was “Merci, salut la visite”. (‘Thank you, hello/goodbye to the visitors’)
Thank you for the correction.
I did most of the translation from memory, but the French phrasing and spelling I grabbed off of a lyrics site (and Roch Voisine’s inclusion is not my fault, but misspelling his name is).
I’ll fix it up, thanks.
Having grown up across the river (and spending a lot of time across the border between the ages of 19 and 21), I can do a pretty decent Ontario accent…
Eh, wanna go oot and aboot in a boot?
it’s not Labradoodles?
Can’t use it, it’s already trademarked.
Besdies, Labradoodles are 'Stralians, mate.
'Strine is a whole other subset of English. I got wasted with a Canadian, and Aussie, and an Irish guy once. I had no idea what was going on.
Long but interesting (the poem ends around 3:30):
If you’re up to Trawna next May Two-Four weekend, drop by. We’re just up on the 6th concession. Grab a bag of milk on the way, cause I like my double-double in the morning.