Dedicated to that old stock who planted the seed of Catholicity upon the shores of Maine. First stanza: Come with me and we'll look back To scenes of long ago, When Bangor was a little town, Where the Penobscot flows; And there were men and women With hearts and courage true, Just listen to my story, I'll tell it unto you.

Respectfully dedicated to President Theodore Roosevelt: Our Republican candidate. First stanza: The convention it is past and gone, Our candidate is here, With Roosevelt to lead the van The skies look bright and clear; And then with one grand union voice, We'll show our right good will To place him in the chair of state For he can fill the bill.

Respectfully dedicated to Hon. F. O. Beal: For senator from Penobscot County. First stanza: At Monmouth Center long ago A boy was born, it's true, Who wandered forth in life's young morn, To prove his worth to you; As a young man he started forth With courage and clear brain, And soon became conductor On the old Maine Central train.

Respectfully dedicated to the directors and railroad men, whose brilliant efforts were the means of building this grand, new station. First stanza: In Fifty-five, long years ago, Some men of worth and brain Proposed to build a railroad, Down through the wilds of Maine; They started out from Waterville, O'er mountain, hill and plain, And landed down at Bangor, The old Maine Central train.

To the Catholics of Bangor who stood for the Christian Faith and whose bodies lie beneath Mount Pleasant's sod, these lines are inscribed. First stanza: It was drawing toward the close of day As through Mt. Pleasant gates I strayed, And read the name upon the stone, Where underneath their bodies laid, And, kneeling on a mound to pray My thoughts went back to days of yore–Of faces that we loved so well, Whose spirits pass to the other shore.

Respectfully dedicated to the faces we loved. First stanza: I wandered to old Mount Hope's Gate And stood within the ground, And as I gazed along the path Where ‘rose up many a mound; I thought of those we loved so well When life was young and bright, Whose bodies rest beneath the sod Now hidden from our sight.

Dedicated to the men of Maine who dare to stand for a true and just law and the repeal of prohibition. First stanza: The days have come, it’s time to act, When voters in our land, Should stand for what they think is right, And hold the winning hand; Now, Prohibition, it's got to go We hold the leading rein, To down that great hypocrisy In our old State of Maine.

In loving remembrance of those who lost their lives on board the Steamship Titanic. First stanza: It was on a Wednesday afternoon, When a steamship bright and new, From old Southampton started out To cross the ocean blue; And as the thousands on her deck, They heard the signal bell. And watched the English shores recede, As they bade that last farewell.

In loving remembrance of very Rev. Father Michael C. O’Brien, late parish priest of Saint Mary’s, Bangor. First stanza: We'll pause awhile and speak of one In life well known to you, Who always stood for Holy Church And Christian faith most true. He started out when life was young, For precious souls to save, With sorrowing hearts and deep regret They've laid him in the grave.

Dedicated to those three words: Peace on Earth. First stanza: It's midnight, and as by the hearth The fading embers glow, And visions they come unto me, Of scenes that come and go. Of Europe and her mighty war, In battle's fierce array. Then sheathe the sword, bring forth the plow, For peace this autumn day.

Where you’ll meet the tourists of every land. First stanza: The day was drawing to its close, The sea was calm, the storm was o’er The pleasure yachts they sought repose, And stretched along from shore to shore; And as I gazed upon that scene, And saw God's mighty works that day, The sunlight cast its golden beams On those grand hills far o’er the bay.

Dedicated to the people of Bangor who lost their homes on Sunday, April 30th, 1911. First stanza: It was on a Sunday afternoon The sky was bright and clear, The people of our dear old town They felt no dread or fear; But 'ere the clock it had struck four They heard the signal bell Which drove them from the homes they loved And bid that last farewell.