Canuck

Canadians are somewhat jealous of the Americans; that they are secretly manœuvering, not exactly with the inoffensive good humor of a much respected yeoman of England, […] but rather after the inordinate example of Ahab of old, so pithily recorded by the sacred historian. Jonathan distinguishes a Dutch or French Canadian, by the term Kanuk.

We saw a few partridges: we also met a lusty fellow in a forest road with a keg of whisky slung round him, who called to us 'Come boys and have some grog, I'm what you call a canuck:' a (Canadian).

It is a pity these Canadian militiamen spoilt the good work they had done by never-failing bluster. But for pure and unadulterated brag I will back the lower-class Canuck against the world. The Yankee is a very sucking dove compared to his northern neighbour.

[T]he Canucks were ready with bats, hands, feet and heads, to outplay the locals at all points. They did it to a nicety. It is wonderful to contemplate the quality of ball speiled by the Canucks when their lungs are filled with Rochester air.

He's got a Canuck a-workin' for him, and I'd livser trust a wolf 'n one o' them pea-soupers.

The new-comers were a couple of farmers from Minnesota, genuine Americans from birth; wise men, with a keg of good water in their waggon. "And don't you want to be Americans any longer?" I asked. "No," said they most emphatically, "we're Canucks now."

One person who realizes that the Canadian troops in England have healthy appetites is Corp. J. R. Johnstone, chief butcher of a unit. He and his 16 assistants drag from huge refrigerators eight tons of meat per day for the hungry Canucks; and every other day when rationing is less severe the butchers carve up 16 tons of lamb, beef and pork.

The Scottish skip [Alex F. Torrance] missed a wide open takeout in the fifth leaving the Canucks another single.

[Jack] Kerouac's writings reveal that, although celebrated as an iconic American, he thought of himself as first and foremost Canadian. In La Vie est d'Hommage, he writes, "I am French Canadian. When I am angry, I often swear in French; when I dream, I often dream in French." He went on to say that "all my knowledge comes from my being French Canadian.” But as a Canuck in the United States, he felt patronized. He needed to hide his true self. Even with his friends in New York, with Allen Ginsberg and William Burroughs, he was "a completely different man. We have to live in English, it's impossible to live in French. This is the secret thought of the Canuck in America."

Wha'll buy my caller herrin'? / Cod, turbot, ling, delicious farin', / Buy my caller herrin', / They're every one Kanucks!