Oh you who hail from Ontario. Know the tale of the Donnelly's Oh. Died at the hands of a mob that night. Every child and man by the oil torch light. Jim Donnelly was no angel sure. But they burned his barn broke down the door. Well the children cried while they killed old Jim. Then they killed his wife then they turned on them. No judge no jury no hangman no justice in Ontario. A hundred years or more have turned. And you always hear how much we've learned. Well a man lay dead in a Port Hope bar. And the blood ran red on a hardwood floor. And the big men ran through the nearest door. Only one man knew what had happened for sure. Well one and all wore the outlaws' brand. And the big bikes roared through the Great Northland. When you live on the edge of the law. You know justice in Ontario. Blue smoke still hung in the air. No one spoke when the cops got there. Well the local constable made the call. Send us Corporal Terry Hall. They all sang a different tune. When Corporal Hall walked in the room. With his picture book and a list of names. One by one the witnesses came. And they told him what he wanted to know. Justice in Ontario. The provincial cops searched far and wide. And the outlaws ran but they could not hide. And they brought em in every single one. Save the man who actually fired the gun. It was down in London they were tried. And the guilty man stood free outside. When he took the stand to pay his debt. The judge was blind and the jury deaf. In Kingston Town they're locked up still. When the sun goes down and the air is chill. You could swear you heard Jim Donnelly's ghost cry. "Justice In Ontario"