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Ô Canada! mon pays, mes amours
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Ô Canada! mon pays, mes amours

The lyrics to this French Canadian song were written by George-Étienne Cartier are and not to be confused with the other O Canada, which today is the official anthem of Canada. They were first sung in 1834, during a patriotic banquet of the Saint-Jean-Baptiste Society held in Montreal.

Comme le dit un vieil adage:
Rien n'est si beau que son pays;
Et de le chanter, c'est l'usage;
Le mien je chante à mes amis
L'étranger voit avec un oeil d'envie
Du Saint-Laurent le majestueux cours;
À son aspect le Canadien s'écrie:
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

Maints ruisseaux et maintes rivières
Arrosent nos fertiles champs;
Et de nos montagnes altières,
De loin on voit les longs penchants.
Vallons, coteaux, forêts, chutes, rapides,
De tant d'objets est-il plus beau concours?
Qui n'aimerait pas tes lacs aux eaux limpides?
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

Les quatre saisons de l'année
Offrent tour à tour leurs attraits.
Le printemps, l'amante enjouée
Revoit ses fleurs, ses verts bosquets.
Le moissonneur, l'été, joyeux s'apprête
À recueillir le fruit de ses labeurs,
Et tout l'automne et tout l'hiver, on fête.
Ô Canada, mon pays! mes amours!

Le Canadien comme ses pères,
Aime à chanter, à s'égayer.
Doux, aisé, vif en ses manières,
Poli, galant, hospitalier.
À son pays il ne fut jamais traître,
À l'esclavage il résista toujours;
Et sa maxime est la paix, le bien-être
Du Canada, son pays, ses amours.

Chaque pays vante ses belles;
Je crois bien que l'on ne ment pas;
Mais nos Canadiennes comme elles
Ont des grâces et des appas.
Chez nous la belle est aimable, sincère;
D'une Française elle a tous les atours,
L'air moins coquet, pourtant assez pour plaire,
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

Ô mon pays! de la nature
Vraiment tu fus l'enfant chéri;
Mais l'étranger souvent parjure,
En ton sein, le trouble a nourri.
Puissent tous tes enfants enfin se joindre,
Et valeureux voler à ton secours!
Car le beau jour commence à poindre.
Ô Canada! mon pays! mes amours!

English translation

As the old proverb says:
Nothing is more beautiful than one's own country;
And to sing it is the tradition;
And mine I sing to my friends
The stranger looks with an envious eye
Of the St. Lawrence the majestic course;
At its aspect the Canadian sings:
O Canada! my country! my love!

Many brooks and many rivers
Sprinkle our fertile fields;
And from our high mountains,
One sees its long inclinations from a great distance.
Valleys, slopes, forests, falls, rapids,
Of so much objets could there be a more beautiful contest?
Who would not love your lakes of limpid water?
O Canada! my country! my love!

The four seasons of the year
In turn offer their treasures.
Spring, the playful amante
Brings its flowers, its greens bosquets.
The harvester, in the summer, merry s'apprête
To collect the fruit of his labour,
And during all of autumn and winter, we celebrate.
O Canada! my country! my love!

The Canadian like his fathers,
Likes to sing, and be merry.
Sweet, easy, sharp in his manners,
Polite, gallant, welcoming.
To his country he never was a traitor,
To slavery he always resisted;
And his maxim is the peace, and the wellbeing
Of Canada, his country, his love.

Each country praises its beauties;
I believe that no one is lying;
But our Canadian women like the others
Have graces and charms.
At home the beauty is pleasant, sincere;
Of the French woman she has all the atours,
Her air less coquet, nevertheless enough to please,
O Canada! my country! my love!

O my country! of nature
You were the blessed child;
But the stranger often perjure,
In your midst, trouble has grown.
May all your children finally unite,
And valiantly fly to your rescue!
Because the beautiful days are coming.
O Canada! my country! my love!