There are islands we've constructed in the River,

Which the ocean-going liners seldom miss,

As they try to get around them to the Seaway,

You can hear the windlass engines clank and hiss:

And the pilots blow their whistles for the tugboats,

To come and help assist them from the muck;

You can watch the sailors play with their capstans every day,

And hear them wishing Expo lots of luck!


If you've nothing else to do, I suggest an aerial view,

Of the islands we've constructed on the River,

Merely speed across the ridge of the old Jacques-Cartier bridge,

It's just the thing to liven up your liver;

As ten thousand cars surround you and the road signs all confound you,

As your wife and kids supress the urge to scream,

Stop the car right where you are; it's a better plan by far,

Than driving off the islands and going eastward down the stream.

20 July, 1966