De Papineau Gun
AN INCIDENT OF THE CANADIAN REBELLION OF 1837.
Bon jour, M'sieu'--you want to know
'Bout dat ole gun--w'at good she's for?
W'y! Jean Bateese Bruneau--mon pere,
Fight wit' dat gun on Pap'neau War!
Long tam since den you say--C'est vrai,
An' me too young for 'member well,
But how de patriot fight an' die,
I offen hear de ole folk tell.
De English don't ack square dat tam,
Don't geev de habitants no show,
So 'long come Wolfred Nelson
Wit' Louis Joseph Papineau.
An' swear de peep mus' have deir right.
Wolfred he's write Victoriaw,
But she's no good, so den de war
Commence among de habitants.
Mon pere he leev to Grande Brulé
So smarter man you never see,
Was alway on de grande hooraw!
Plaintee w'at you call 'Esprit!'
An' w'en dey form wan compagnie
All dress wit' tuque an' ceinture sash
Ma fader tak' hees gun wit' heem
An' marche away to Saint Eustache,
W'ere many patriots was camp
Wit' brave Chenier, deir Capitaine,
W'en 'long come English Generale,
An' more two t'ousan' sojer man.
De patriot dey go on church
An' feex her up deir possibill;
Dey fight deir bes', but soon fin' out
'Canon de bois' no good for kill.
An' den de church she come on fire,
An' burn almos' down to de groun',
So w'at you t'ink our man can do
Wit' all dem English armee roun'?
'Poleon, hees sojer never fight
More brave as dem poor habitants,
Chenier, he try for broke de rank
Chenier come dead immediatement.
He fall near w'ere de cross is stan'
Upon de ole church cimitiere,
Wit' Jean Poulin an' Laframboise
An' plaintee more young feller dere.
De gun dey rattle lak' tonnere
Jus' bang, bang, bang! dat's way she go,
An' wan by wan de brave man's fall
An' red blood's cover all de snow.
Ma fader shoot so long he can
An' den he's load hees gun some more,
Jomp on de ice behin' de church
An' pass heem on de 'noder shore.
Wall! he reach home fore very long
An' keep perdu for many day,
Till ev'ry t'ing she come tranquille,
An' sojer man all gone away.
An' affer dat we get our right,
De Canayens don't fight no more,
Ma fader's never shoot dat gun,
But place her up above de door.
An' Papineau, an' Nelson too
Dey're gone long tam, but we are free,
Le Bon Dieu have 'em 'way up dere.
Salut, Wolfred! Salut, Louis!
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
The Habitants Jubilee Ode
I read on de paper mos' ev'ry day, all about Jubilee
An' grande procession movin' along, an' passin' across de sea,
Dat's chil'ren of Queen Victoriaw comin' from far away
For tole Madame w'at dey t'ink of her, an' wishin' her bonne santé.
An' if any wan want to know pourquoi les Canayens should be dere
Wit' res' of de worl' for shout 'Hooraw' an' t'row hees cap on de air,
Purty quick I will tole heem de reason, w'y we feel lak de oder do,
For if I'm only poor habitant, I'm not on de sapré fou.
Of course w'en we t'ink it de firs' go off, I know very strange it seem
For fader of us dey was offen die for flag of L'Ancien Regime,
From day w'en de voyageurs come out all de way from ole St. Malo,
Flyin' dat flag from de mas' above, an' long affer dat also.
De English fight wit' de Frenchman den over de whole contree,
Down by de reever, off on de wood, an' out on de beeg, beeg sea,
Killin', an' shootin', an' raisin' row, half tam dey don't know w'at for,
W'en it's jus' as easy get settle down, not makin' de crazy war.
Sometam' dey be quiet for leetle w'ile, you t'ink dey don't fight no more,
An' den w'en dey're feelin' all right agen, Bang! jus' lak' she was before.
Very offen we're beatin' dem on de fight, sometam' dey can beat us, too,
But no feller's scare on de 'noder man, an' bote got enough to do.
An' all de long year she be go lak' dat, we never was know de peace,
Not'ing but war from de wes' contree down to de St. Maurice;
Till de las' fight's comin' on Canadaw, an' brave Generale Montcalm
Die lak' a sojer of France is die, on Battle of Abraham.
Dat's finish it all, an' de English King is axin' us stayin' dere
W'ere we have sam' right as de 'noder peep comin' from Angleterre.
Long tam' for our moder so far away de poor Canayens is cry,
But de new step-moder she's good an' kin', an' it's all right bimeby.
If de moder come dead w'en you're small garçon leavin' you dere alone,
Wit' nobody watchin' for fear you fall, an hurt youse'f on de stone,
An' 'noder good woman she tak' your han' de sam' your own moder do,
Is it right you don't call her moder, is it right you don't love her too?
Bâ non, an' dat was de way we feel, w'en de ole Regime's no more,
An' de new wan come, but don't change moche, w'y it's jus' lak' it be before.
Spikin' Français lak' we alway do, an' de English dey mak no fuss,
An' our law de sam', wall, I don't know me, 'twas better mebbe for us.
So de sam' as two broder we settle down, leevin' dere han' in han',
Knowin' each oder, we lak' each oder, de French an' de Englishman,
For it's curi's t'ing on dis worl', I'm sure you see it agen an' agen,
Dat offen de mos' worse ennemi, he's comin' de bes', bes' frien'.
So we're kipin' so quiet long affer dat, w'en las' of de fightin's done,
Dat plaintee is say, de new Canayens forget how to shoot de gun;
But Yankee man's smart, all de worl' know dat, so he's firs' fin' mistak'
wan day
W'en he's try cross de line, fusil on hee's han', near place dey call
Chateaugay.
Of course it's bad t'ing for poor Yankee man, De Salaberry be dere
Wit' habitant farmer from down below, an' two honder Voltigeurs,
Dem feller come off de State, I s'pose, was fightin' so hard dey can
But de blue coat sojer he don't get kill, is de locky Yankee man!
Since den w'en dey're comin on Canadaw, we alway be treat dem well,
For dey're spennin' de monee lak' gentil-hommes, an' stay on de bes' hotel,
Den 'Bienvenu,' we will spik dem, an' 'Come back agen nex' week,
So long you was kip on de quiet an' don't talk de politique!'
Yass, dat is de way Victoriaw fin' us dis jubilee,
Sometam' we mak' fuss about not'ing, but it's all on de familee,
An' w'enever dere's danger roun' her, no matter on sea or lan',
She'll find that les Canayens can fight de sam' as bes' Englishman.
An' onder de flag of Angleterre, so long as dat flag was fly--
Wit' deir English broder, les Canayens is satisfy leev an' die.
Dat's de message our fader geev us w'en dey're fallin' on Chateaugay,
An' de flag was kipin' dem safe den, dat's de wan we will kip alway!
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Bateese Came Home
1 W'en I was young boy on de farm, dat 's twenty year ago
2 I have wan frien' he 's leev near me, call Jean Bateese Trudeau
3 An offen w'en we are alone, we lak for spik about
4 De tam w'en we was come beeg man, wit' moustache on our mout'.
5 Bateese is get it on hees head, he 's too moche educate
6 For mak' de habitant farmerre--he better go on State--
7 An' so wan summer evening we 're drivin' home de cow
8 He 's tole me all de whole beez-nesse--jus' lak you hear me now.
9 'W'at 's use mak' foolish on de farm? dere 's no good chances lef'
10 An' all de tam you be poor man--you know dat 's true you'se'f;
11 We never get no fun at all--don't never go on spree
12 Onless we pass on 'noder place, an' mak' it some monee.
13 'I go on Les Etats Unis, I go dere right away
14 An' den mebbe on ten-twelve year, I be riche man some day,
15 An' w'en I mak' de large fortune, I come back I s'pose
16 Wit' Yankee famme from off de State, an' monee on my clothes.
17 'I tole you somet'ing else also--mon cher Napoleon
18 I get de grande majorité, for go on parliament
19 Den buil' fine house on borde l'eau--near w'ere de church is stand
20 More finer dan de Presbytere, w'en I am come riche man!'
21 I say 'For w'at you spik lak dat? you must be gone crazee
22 Dere 's plaintee feller on de State, more smarter dan you be,
23 Beside she 's not so healtee place, an' if you mak' l'argent,
24 You spen' it jus' lak Yankee man, an' not lak habitant.
25 'For me Bateese! I tole you dis: I 'm very satisfy--
26 De bes' man don't leev too long tam, some day Ba Gosh! he die--
27 An' s'pose you got good trotter horse, an' nice famme Canadienne
28 Wit' plaintee on de house for eat--W'at more you want ma frien'?'
29 But Bateese have it all mak' up, I can't stop him at all
30 He 's buy de seconde classe tiquette, for go on Central Fall--
31 An' wit' two-t'ree some more de boy,--w'at t'ink de sam' he do
32 Pass on de train de very nex' wick, was lef' Rivière du Loup.
33 Wall! mebbe fifteen year or more, since Bateese go away
34 I fin' mesef Rivière du Loup, wan cole, cole winter day
35 De quick express she come hooraw! but stop de soon she can
36 An' beeg swell feller jomp off car, dat 's boss by nigger man.
37 He 's dressim on de première classe, an' got new suit of clothes
38 Wit' long moustache dat 's stickim out, de 'noder side hees nose
39 Fine gol' watch chain--nice portmanteau--an' long, long overcoat
40 Wit' beaver hat--dat 's Yankee style--an' red tie on hees t'roat--
41 I say 'Helloe Bateese! Hello! Comment ça va mon vieux?'
42 He say 'Excuse to me, ma frien' I t'ink I don't know you.'
43 I say, 'She 's very curis t'ing, you are Bateese Trudeau,
44 Was raise on jus' sam' place wit' me, dat 's fifteen year ago?'
45 He say, 'Oh yass dat 's sure enough--I know you now firs' rate,
46 But I forget mos' all ma French since I go on de State.
47 Dere 's 'noder t'ing kip on your head, ma frien' dey mus' be tole
48 Ma name 's Bateese Trudeau no more, but John B. Waterhole!'
49 'Hole on de water 's' fonny name for man w'at 's call Trudeau
50 Ma frien's dey all was spik lak dat, an' I am tole heem so--
51 He say 'Trudeau an' Waterhole she 's jus' about de sam'
52 An' if you go for leev on State, you must have Yankee nam'.'
53 Den we invite heem come wit' us, 'Hotel du Canadaw'
54 W'ere he was treat mos' ev'ry tam, but can't tak' w'isky blanc,
55 He say dat 's leetle strong for man jus' come off Central Fall
56 An' 'tabac Canayen' bedamme! he won't smoke dat at all!--
57 But fancy drink lak 'Collins John' de way he put it down
58 Was long tam since I don't see dat--I t'ink he 's goin' drown!--
59 An' fine cigar cos' five cent each, an' mak' on Trois-Rivières
60 L'enfant! he smoke beeg pile of dem--for monee he don't care!
61 I s'pose meseff it 's t'ree o'clock w'en we are t'roo dat night
62 Bateese, hees fader come for heem, an' tak' heem home all right
63 De ole man say Bateese spik French, w'en he is place on bed--
64 An' say bad word--but w'en he wake--forget it on hees head--
65 Wall! all de winter w'en we have soirée dat 's grande affaire
66 Bateese Trudeau, dit Waterhole, he be de boss man dere--
67 You bet he have beeg tam, but w'en de spring is come encore
68 He 's buy de première classe tiquette for go on State some more.
69 You 'member w'en de hard tam come on Les Etats Unis
70 An' plaintee Canayens go back for stay deir own contrée?
71 Wall! jus' about 'dat tam again I go Rivière du Loup
72 For sole me two t'ree load of hay--mak' leetle visit too--
73 De freight train she is jus' arrive--only ten hour delay--
74 She 's never carry passengaire--dat 's w'at dey always say--
75 I see poor man on char caboose--he 's got heem small valise
76 Begosh! I nearly tak' de fit,--It is--it is Bateese!
77 He know me very well dis tam, an' say 'Bon jour, mon vieux
78 I hope you know Bateese Trudeau was educate wit' you
79 I 'm jus' come off de State to see ma familee encore
80 I bus' mesef on Central Fall--I don't go dere no more.'
81 'I got no monee--not at all--I 'm broke it up for sure--
82 Dat 's locky t'ing, Napoleon, de brakeman Joe Latour
83 He 's cousin of wan frien' of me call Camille Valiquette,
84 Conductor too 's good Canayen--don't ax me no tiquette.'
85 I tak' Bateese wit' me once more 'Hotel du Canadaw'
86 An' he was glad for get de chance drink some good w'isky blanc!
87 Dat 's warm heem up, an den he eat mos' ev'ryt'ing he see,
88 I watch de w'ole beez-nesse mese'f--Monjee! he was hongree!
89 Madame Charette wat 's kip de place get very much excite
90 For see de many pork an' bean Bateese put out of sight
91 Du pain doré--potate pie--an' 'noder t'ing be dere
92 But w'en Bateese is get heem t'roo--dey go I don't know w'ere.
93 It don't tak' long for tole de news 'Bateese come off de State'
94 An' purty soon we have beeg crowd, lak village she 's en fête
95 Bonhomme Maxime Trudeau hese'f, he 's comin' wit' de pries'
96 An' pass' heem on de 'Room for eat' w'ere he is see Bateese.
97 Den ev'rybody feel it glad, for watch de embrasser
98 An' bimeby de ole man spik 'Bateese you here for stay?'
99 Bateese he 's cry lak beeg bebè, 'Bâ j'eux rester ici.
100 An if I never see de State, I 'm sure I don't care--me.'
101 'Correc',' Maxime is say right off, ' I place you on de farm
102 For help your poor ole fader, won't do you too moche harm
103 Please come wit' me on Magasin, I feex you up--bâ oui
104 An' den you 're ready for go home an' see de familee.'
105 Wall! w'en de ole man an' Bateese come off de Magasin
106 Bateese is los' hees Yankee clothes--he 's dress lak Canayen
107 Wit' bottes sauvages--ceinture fléché--an' coat wit' capuchon
108 An' spik Français au naturel, de sam' as habitant.
109 I see Bateese de oder day, he 's work hees fader's place
110 I t'ink mese'f he 's satisfy--I see dat on hees face
111 He say 'I got no use for State, mon cher Napoleon
112 Kebeck she 's good enough for me--Hooraw pour Canadaw.'
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Maxime Labelle
Victoriaw: she have beeg war, E-gyp's de nam' de place--
An' neeger peep dat's leev 'im dere, got very black de face,
An' so she's write Joseph Mercier, he's stop on Trois Rivieres--
'Please come right off, an' bring wit' you t'ree honder voyageurs.
'I got de plaintee sojer, me, beeg feller six foot tall--
Dat's Englishman, an' Scotch also, don't wear no pant at all;
Of course, de Irishman's de bes', raise all de row he can,
But noboddy can pull batteau lak good Canadian man.
'I geev you steady job for sure, an' w'en you get 'im t'roo
I bring you back on Canadaw, don't cos' de man un sou,
Dat's firs'-class steamboat all de way Kebeck an' Leeverpool,
An' if you don't be satisfy, you mus' be beeg, beeg fool.'
We meet upon Hotel Dufresne, an' talk heem till daylight,
An' Joe he's treat so many tam, we very near get tight,
Den affer w'ile, we mak' our min' dat's not bad chance, an' so
Joseph Mercier he's telegraph, 'Correc', Madame, we go.'
So Joe arrange de whole beez-nesse wit' Queen Victoriaw;
Two dollar day--work all de tam--dat's purty good l'argent!
An' w'en we start on Trois Rivieres, for pass on boar' de ship,
Our frien' dey all say, 'Bon voyage,' an' den Hooraw! E-gyp'!
Dat beeg steamboat was plonge so moche, I'm 'fraid she never stop--
De Capitaine's no use at all, can't kip her on de top--
An' so we all come very sick, jus' lak one leetle pup,
An' ev'ry tam de ship's go down, de inside she's go up.
I'm sorry spoke lak dis, ma frien', if you don't t'ink it's so,
Please ax Joseph Mercier hese'f, or Aleck De Courteau,
Dat stay on bed mos' all de tam, so sick dey nearly die,
But lak' some great, beeg Yankee man, was never tole de lie.
De gang she's travel, travel, t'roo many strange contree,
An' ev'ry place is got new nam', I don't remember, me,
We see some fonny t'ing, for sure, more fonny I can tell,
But w'en we reach de Neel Riviere, dat's feel more naturel.
So many fine, beeg sojer man, I never see before,
All dress heem on grand uniform, is wait upon de shore,
Some black, some green, an' red also, cos' honder dollar sure,
An' holler out, 'She's all right now, here come de voyageurs!'
We see boss Generale also, he's ride on beeg chameau,
Dat's w'at you call Ca-melle, I t'ink, I laugh de way she go!
Jomp up, jomp down, jomp ev'ry place, but still de Generale
Seem satisfy for stay on top, dat fonny an-i-mal.
He's holler out on Joe Mercier, 'Comment câ va Joseph
You lak for come right off wit' me, tak' leetle ride yourseff?'
Joseph, he mak' de grand salut, an' tak' it off hees hat,
'Merci, Mon Generale,' he say, 'I got no use for dat.'
Den affer we was drink somet'ing, an' sing 'Le Brigadier,'
De sojer fellers get prepare, for mak' de embarquer,
An' everybody's shout heem out, w'en we tak' hole de boat
'Hooraw pour Queen Victoriaw!' an' also 'pour nous autres.'
Bigosh; I do hard work mese'f upon de Ottawa,
De Gatineau an' St. Maurice, also de Mattawa,
But I don't never work at all, I'sure you dat's a fack
Until we strike de Neel Riviere, an' sapré Catarack!
'Dis way, dat way, can't keep her straight,' 'look out, Bateese, look out!'
'Now let her go'--'arrete un peu,' dat's way de pilot shout,
'Don't wash de neeger girl on shore,' an' 'prenez garde behin','
'W'at's matter wit' dat rudder man? I t'ink he's goin' blin'!'
Some tam of course, de boat's all right, an' carry us along
An' den again, we mak portage, w'en current she's too strong
On place lak' dat, we run good chance, for sun-struck on de neck,
An' plaintee tam we wish ourseff was back on ole Kebeck.
De seconde Catarack we pass, more beeger dan de Soo,
She's nearly t'orty mile for sure, it would astonish you,
Dat's place t'ree Irishman get drown, wan day we have beeg storm,
I s'pose de Queen is feel lak cry, los' dat nice uniform!
De night she's very, very cole, an' hot upon de day,
An' all de tam, you feel jus' lak you're goin' melt away,
But never min' an' don't get scare, you mak' it up all right,
An' twenty poun' you los' dat day, she's comin' back sam' night.
We got small bugle boy also, he's mebbe stan' four foot,
An' firs' t'ing ev'ry morning, sure, he mak' it toot! toot! toot!
She's nice enough upon de day, for hear de bugle call,
But w'en she play before daylight, I don't lak dat at all.
We mus' get up immediatement, dat leetle feller blow,
An' so we start heem off again, for pull de beeg batteau,
De sojer man he's nice, nice boy, an' help us all he can,
An' geev heem chance, he's mos' as good lak some Canadian man.
Wall all de tam, she go lak dat, was busy every day,
Don't get moche chance for foolish-ness, don't get no chance for play,
Dere's plaintee danger all aroun', an' w'en we're comin' back
We got look out for run heem safe, dem sapré Catarack.
But w'ere's de war? I can't mak' out, don't see no fight at all!
She's not'ing but une Grande Piqnique, dat's las' in all de fall!
Mebbe de neeger King he's scare, an' skip anoder place,
An' pour la Reine Victoriaw! I never see de face.
But dat's not ma beez-nesse, ma frien', I'm ready pull batteau
So long she pay two dollar day, wit' pork an' bean also;
An' if she geev me steady job, for mak' some more l'argent,
I say, 'Hooraw! for all de tam, on Queen Victoriaw!'
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Pelang
Pelang! Pelang! Mon cher garçon,
I t'ink of you--t'ink of you night and day--
Don't mak' no difference, seems to me
De long long tam you're gone away.
* * * * *
De snow is deep on de Grande Montagne--
Lak tonder de rapide roar below--
De sam' kin' night, ma boy get los'
On beeg, beeg storm forty year ago.
An' I never was hear de win' blow hard,
An' de snow come sweesh on de window pane--
But ev'ryt'ing 'pear lak' it's yesterday
An' whole of ma troub' is come back again.
Ah me! I was foolish young girl den
It's only ma own plaisir I care,
An' w'en some dance or soirée come off
Dat's very sure t'ing you will see me dere.
Don't got too moche sense at all dat tam,
Run ev'ry place on de whole contree--
But I change beeg lot w'en Pelang come 'long
For I love him so well, kin' o' steady me.
An' he was de bes' boy on Coteau,
An' t'ink I am de bes' girl too for sure--
He's tole me dat, geev de ring also
Was say on de inside 'Je t'aime toujours.'
I geev heem some hair dat come off ma head,
I mak' de nice stocking for warm hees feet,
So ev'ryt'ing's feex, w'en de spring is come
For mak' mariée on de church toute suite.
'W'en de spring is come!' Ah I don't see dat,
Dough de year is pass as dey pass before,
An' de season come, an' de season go,
But our spring never was come no more.
* * * * *
It's on de fête of de jour de l'an,
An' de worl' outside is cole an' w'ite,
As I sit an' watch for mon cher Pelang
For he's promise come see me dis very night.
Bonhomme Peloquin dat is leev near us--
He's alway keep look heem upon de moon--
See fonny t'ing dere only week before,
An' say he's expec' some beeg storm soon.
So ma fader is mak' it de laugh on me'
'Pelang he's believe heem de ole Bonhomme
Dat t'ink he see ev'ryt'ing on de moon
An' mebbe he's feel it too scare for come.'
But I don't spik not'ing I am so sure
Of de promise Pelang is mak' wit' me--
An' de mos' beeg storm dat is never blow
Can't kip heem away from hees own Marie.
I open de door, an' pass outside
For see mese'f how de night is look
An' de star is commence for go couché
De mountain also is put on hees tuque.
No sooner, I come on de house again
W'ere ev'ryt'ing feel it so nice an' warm,
Dan out of de sky come de Nor'Eas' win'--
Out of de sky come de beeg snow storm.
Blow lak not'ing I never see,
Blow lak le diable he was mak' grande tour;
De snow come down lak wan avalanche,
An' cole! Mon Dieu, it is cole for sure!
I t'ink, I t'ink of mon pauvre garçon,
Dat's out mebbe on de Grande Montagne;
So I place chandelle we're it's geev good light,
An' pray Le Bon Dieu he will help Pelang.
De ole folk t'ink I am go crazee,
An' moder she's geev me de good night kiss;
She say 'Go off on your bed, Marie,
Dere's nobody come on de storm lak dis.'
But ma eye don't close dat long long, night
For it seem jus' lak phantome is near,
An' I t'ink of de terrible Loup Garou
An' all de bad story I offen hear.
Dere was tam I am sure somet'ing call 'Marie'
So plainly I open de outside door,
But it's meet me only de awful storm,
An de cry pass away--don't come no more.
An' de morning sun, w'en he's up at las',
Fin' me w'ite as de face of de snow itse'f,
For I know very well, on de Grande Montagne,
Ma poor Pelang he's come dead hese'f.
It's noon by de clock w'en de storm blow off,
An' ma fader an' broder start out for see
Any track on de snow by de Mountain side,
Or down on de place w'ere chemin should be.
No sign at all on de Grande Montagne,
No sign all over de w'ite, w'ite snow;
Only hear de win' on de beeg pine tree,
An' roar of de rapide down below.
An' w'ere is he lie, mon cher Pelang!
Pelang ma boy I was love so well?
Only Le Bon Dieu up above
An' mebbe de leetle snow bird can tell.
An I t'ink I hear de leetle bird say,
'Wait till de snow is geev up it's dead,
Wait till I go, an' de robin come,
An' den you will fin' hees cole, cole bed.'
An' it's all come true, for w'en de sun
Is warm de side of de Grande Montagne
An' drive away all de winter snow,
We fin' heem at las', mon cher Pelang!
An' here on de fête of de jour de l'an,
Alone by mese'f I sit again,
W'ile de beeg, beeg storm is blow outside,
An' de snow come sweesh on de window pane.
Not all alone, for I t'ink I hear
De voice of ma boy gone long ago;
Can hear it above de hurricane,
An' roar of de rapide down below.
Yes--yes--Pelang, mon cher garçon!
I t'ink of you, t'ink of you night an' day,
Don't mak' no difference seems to me
How long de tam you was gone away.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Marie Louise
Dis was de story of boy an' girl
Dat 's love each oder above de worl'
But it 's not easy job for mak' l'amour
W'en de girl she 's riche an' de boy he 's poor
All de sam' he don't worry an' she don't cry,
But wait for good chances come bimedy.
Young Marie Louise Hurtubuise
Was leev wit' her meder la veuve Denise
On fines' house on de w'ole chemin
From Caribou reever to St. Germain
For ole woamn 's boss on de grande moulin.
W'ere dere 's nice beeg dam, water all de tam
An'season t'roo runnin' jus' de sam'
Wit' good leetle creek comin' off de hill
Was helpin' de reever for work de mill
So de grande moulin she is never still.
No wonder Denise she was hard to please
W'en de boy come sparkin' Marie Louise
For affer de foreman Bazile is pay
De mill she 's bringin' t'ree dollar a day
An' for makin' de monee, dat 's easy way.
An' de girl Marie, O! she's tres jolie,
Jompin' aroun lak de summer bee
She 's never short plaintee t'ing to do
An' mebbe she ketch leetle honey too,
'Cos she 's jus' as sweet as de morning dew.
An' w'en she was dress on her Sunday bes'
An' walk wit' her moder on seconde mess
Dere 's not'ing is bring de young man so fas'
An' dey stan' on door of church en masse
So res' of de peop' dey can hardly pass.
An' she know musique, 'cos on Chris'mas week
W'en organ man on de church is sick
(S'pose he got de grippe) dat girl she play
Lak college professor, de pries' is say
Till de place it was crowd nearly ev'ry day.
Ole le Curé Belair of St. Pollinaire,
Dat 's parish ten mile noder side riviere,
If he 's not gettin' mad, it was funny t'ing
W'en hees young man fly lak bird on de wing
Wit' nobody lef' behin' to sing.
An' nex' t'ing dey know it 's comin' so
Dat mos' of de girl she got no beau,
An' of course dat's makin' de jealousie
For w'en de young feller he see Marie
He see not'ing else on hees eye, sapree!
Mus' be somet'ing done sure as de gun,
It's all very well for de boy have fun
But dere 's noder t'ing too, must n't be forget,
Dere 's two fine parish dat 's all upset
An' mebbe de troub' is n't over yet.
So ev'ry wan say de only way
Is gettin' young Marie Louise mariée,
Den dey have beeg meetin' on magasin,
W'ere he sit on de chair Aleck Sanschagrin,
An' dey 'point heem for go on de grande
moulin.
But w'en Aleck come dere for arrange affaire,
Ole Madame Denise she was mak' heem scare
For jus' on de minute she see hees face
She know right away all about de case
An' she tole Bazile t'row heem off de place.
Now de young Bazile he was t'ink good deal
Of Marie Louise an' he 's ready for keel
Any feller come foolin' aroun' de door
So he kick dat man till he 's feelin' sore,
An' Aleck he never got back no more.
If it 's true w'at dey say, Joe Boulanger
Was crazy to fight Irish man wan day
W'en he steal all de pork on hees dinner can,
Den it is n't so very hard onderstan'
Bazile Latour mus' be darn smart man.
For nobody know de poor feller Joe
W'en he 's come from de grande moulin below
'Cept hees moder, dat's tole heem mak' prom-
ise sure
Kip off on de mill, an' Bazile Latour,
(But it 's long before doctor can mak' heem
cure).
Den de ole Denise she was very please,
An' nex' day spik wit' Marie Louise,
'Ma girl, I got de right man for you
If you can only jus' love heem true,
Bazile dat young feller, I t'ink he 'll do.'
'Wall! Moder he 's poor, Bazile Latour,
But if you t'ink you will lak heem sure
I 'll try an' feex it mese'f some day
For you 've been de good moder wit' me
alway'
An' dat 's w'at Marie Louise she say.
So it 's comin' right affer all de fight,
An' de parish don't see de more finer sight
Dan w'en dey get marry on St. Germain
W'y de buggy she 's pilin' de w'ole chemin
All de way from de church to de grande moulin.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
M'Sieu Smit
THE ADVENTURES OF AN ENGLISHMAN IN THE CANADIAN WOODS.
Wan morning de walkim boss say 'Damase,
I t'ink you're good man on canoe d'ecorce,
So I'll ax you go wit' your frien' Philéas
An' meet M'sieu' Smit' on Chenail W'ite Horse.
'He'll have I am sure de grosse baggage--
Mebbe some valise--mebbe six or t'ree--
But if she's too moche for de longue portage
'Poleon he will tak' 'em wit' mail buggee.'
W'en we reach Chenail, plaintee peep be dere,
An' wan frien' of me, call Placide Chretien,
'Splain all dat w'en he say man from Angleterre
Was spik heem de crowd on de 'Parisien.'
Fonny way dat Englishman he'll be dress,
Leetle pant my dear frien' jus' come on knee,
Wit' coat dat's no coat at all--only ves'
An' hat--de more stranger I never see!
Wall! dere he sit on de en' some log
An' swear heem in English purty loud
Den talk Français, w'ile hees chien boule dog
Go smellim an' smellim aroun' de crowd.
I spik im 'Bonjour, M'sieu' Smit', Bonjour,
I hope dat yourse'f and famille she's well?'
M'sieu Smit' he is also say 'Bonjour,'
An' call off hees dog dat's commence for smell.
I tell heem my name dat's Damase Labrie
I am come wit' Philéas for mak' de trip,
An' he say I'm de firs' man he never see
Spik English encore since he lef' de ship.
He is also ax it to me 'Damase,
De peep she don't seem understan' Français,
W'at's matter wit' dat?' An' I say 'Becos
You mak' too much talk on de Parisien.'
De groun she is pile wit' baggage--Sapré!
An' I see purty quick we got plaintee troub--
Two tronk, t'ree valise, four-five fusil,
An' w'at M'sieu Smit' he is call 'bat' tubbe.'
M'sieu Smit' he's tole me w'at for's dat t'ing,
An' it seem Englishman he don't feel correc'
Until he's go plonge on some bat' morning
An' sponge it hees possibill high hees neck.
Of course dat's not'ing of my beez-nesse,
He can plonge on de water mos' ev'ry day,
But I t'ink for mese'f it mak foolishness
An' don't do no good w'en your bonne santé.
W'en I tell 'Poleon he mus' mak' dat job,
Dere's leetle too moche for canoe d'écorce,
He's mad right away an' say 'Sapré diable!
You t'ink I go work lak wan niggerhorse?
'I'm not manufacture dat way, bâ non,
Dat rich stranger man he have lot monee,
I go see my frien' Onésime Gourdon,
An' tole heem bring horse wit' some more buggee.'
Wall! affer some w'ile dey'll arrange all dat,
'Poleon an' hees frien' Onésime Gourdon,
But w'en 'Poleon is tak' hole of bat',
He receive it beeg scare immediatement!
Dat chien boule dog, I was tole you 'bout,
I am not understan' w'at good she's for,
Eat 'Poleon's leg w'it hees teet' an' mout,
'Poleon he is feel very mad--by Gor!
Of course I am poule heem hees tail toute suite
But I don't know some reason mak all dis troub',
W'en I hear me dat Englishman, M'sieu Smit'
Say 'Poleon, w'at for you took my tubbe?
'Leff 'im dere--for I don't low nobodee
Walk heem off on any such way lak dat;
You may tak' all de res', an' I don't care me--
But de man he'll be keel who is tak' my bat'.'
'I will carry heem wit' me,' say M'sieu Smit'--
'W'erever dat tubbe she mus' go, I go--
No matter de many place we visite,
An' my sponge I will tak' mese'f also.'
Philéas say 'Damase, we mus buil' some raf'
Or mebbe some feller be sure get drown';
Dis geev me plaisir, but I'm scare mak' laf',
So I'll do it mese'f, inside, way down.
At las' we are start on voyage, sure nuff,
M'sieu Smit' carry tubbe on de top hees head,
Good job, I t'ink so, de lac isn't rough,
Or probably dis tam, we're all come dead.
De dog go wit' Onésime Gourdon,
An' Onésime afferwar' say to me,
'Dat chien boule dog is eat 'Poleon
Was de more quiet dog I never see.'
But fun she's commence on very nex' day
W'en we go camp out on de Castor Noir.
Dat Englishman he'll come along an' say
'I hope some wil' Injun she don't be dere.
'I have hear many tam, dat de wood be foule
Of Injun w'at tak' off de hair your head.
But so surely my name she's Johnnie Boule
If I see me dem feller I shoot it dead.'
Philéas den pray harder, more quick he can
Mebbe he's t'ink dat's hees las' portage
De moder hees fader, she's Injun man
Derefore an' also, he is wan Sauvage.
I say 'Don't mak' it some excitement;
Saison she is 'close' on de spring an' fall,
An' dem peep dat work on de Gouvernement
Don't lak you shoot Injun dis mont' at all.'
Nex' day M'sieu Smit' is perform hees plonge
We see heem go done it--Philéas an' me,
An' w'en he's hang up bat' tubbe an' sponge
We go on de wood for mak' Chasse perdrix.
An' mebbe you will not believe to me,
But w'en we come back on de camp encore
De sponge of dat Englishman don't be see,
An' we fin' beeg bear she's go dead on shore.
Very fonny t'ing how he's loss hees life,
But Philéas he'll know hese'f purty quick,
He cut M'sieu Bear wit' hees hunter knife,
An' sponge she's fall out on de bear stummick.
Day affer we get two fox houn' from Boss
Dat's good for ketch deer on de fall an' spring,
Den place Englishman w'ere he can't get los'
An' tole heem shoot quicker he see somet'ing.
Wat's dat leetle deer got no horn at all?
She'll be moder small wan en suite bimeby,
Don't remember mese'f w'at name she's call,
But dat's de kin' start w'en de dog is cry.
We see heem come down on de runaway
De dog she is not very far behin'
An' w'en dey pass place M'sieu Smit' is stay
We expec' he will shoot or make noise some kin'!
But he's not shoot at all, mon cher ami,
So we go an' we ax 'Is he see some deer?'
He say 'Dat's long tam I am stay on tree
But I don't see not'ing she's pass on here.'
We spik heem once more, 'He don't see fox houn'?'
W'at you t'ink he is say, dat Englishman?
'Yes, I see dem pass quickly upon de groun',
Wan beeg yellow dog, an' two small brown wan.'
He's feel de more bad I don't see before
W'en he know dat beeg dog, she's wan small deer,
An' for mak' ev'ryt'ing correc' encore
We drink I am sure six bouteilles de bière.
Nex' day--dat's Dimanche--he is spik to me,
'Damase, you mus' feel leetle fatigué,
You may slep' wit' Philéas w'ile I go an' see
I can't get some nice quiet tam to-day.'
So for keep 'way skeeter, an' fly also
Bouteille from de shelf M'sieu Smit' he tak',
Den he start wit' his chien boule dog an' go
For nice quiet walk on shore of lac.
We don't slep' half hour w'en dere's beeg, beeg yell,
Lak somet'ing I'm sure don't hear long tam,
An' we see wan feller we cannot tell,
Till he spik it, 'Damase! Philéas!! dam dam!!!'
Den we know it at once, mon cher ami,
But she's swell up hees face--hees neck an' han'!
It seem all de skeeter on w'ole contree
Is jump on de head of dat Englishman.
Some water on poor M'sieu Smit' we'll t'row,
An' w'en he's tranquille fin' out ev'ryt'ing;
Bouteille he's rub on, got some nice sirop
I was mak' mese'f on de wood las' spring.
Dere was jus' 'noder t'ing he seem for care
An' den he is feel it more satisfy,
Dat t'ing, my dear frien', was for keel some bear,
If he'll do dat wan tam, he's prepare for die.
Philéas say he know w'ere some blue berree
Mak' very good place for de bear have fonne,
So we start nex' day on morning earlee,
An' M'sieu Smit' go wit' hees elephan' gun.
Wan woman sauvage she is come be dere,
Mebbe want some blue berree mak' some pie,
Dat' Englishman shoot, he is t'ink she's bear,
An' de woman she's holler, 'Mon Dieu, I'm die!'
M'sieu Smit' he don't do no harm, becos
He is shake hese'f w'en he shoot dat squaw,
But scare he pay hunder' dollar cos'
For keel some sauvage on de 'close' saison.
T'ree day affer dat, we start out on lac
For ketch on de water wan Cariboo,
But win' she blow strong, an' we can't get back
Till we t'row ourse'f out on dat canoe.
We t'ink M'sieu Smit' he is sure be drown,
Leetle w'ile we can't see heem again no more,
An' den he's come up from de place go down
An' jomp on hees bat' tubbe an' try go shore.
W'en he's pass on de bat', he say 'Hooraw!'
An' commence right away for mak' some sing;
I'm sure you can hear heem ten-twelve arpent
'Bout 'Brittanie, she alway mus' boss somet'ing.'
Dat's all I will tole you jus' now, my frien';
I s'pose you don't know de more fonny case,
But if Englishman go on wood again
I'll have more storee w'en you pass my place.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
De Notaire Publique
M'sieu Paul Joulin, de Notaire Publique
Is come I s'pose seexty year hees life
An' de mos' riche man on Sainte Angelique
W'en he feel very sorry he got no wife--
So he's paint heem hees buggy, lak new, by Gor!
Put flower on hees coat, mak' hese'f more gay
Arrange on hees head fine chapeau castor
An' drive on de house of de Boulanger.
For de Boulanger's got heem une jolie fille
Mos' bes' lookin' girl on paroisse dey say
An' all de young feller is lak Julie
An' plaintee is ax her for mak' mariée,
But Julie she's love only jus' wan man,
Hees nam' it is Jérémie Dandurand
An' he's work for her sak' all de hard he can
'Way off on de wood, up de Mattawa.
M'Sieu Paul he spik him 'Bonjour Mamzelle,
You lak promenade on de church wit' me?
Jus' wan leetle word an' we go ma belle
An' see heem de Curé toute suite, chérie;
I dress you de very bes' style à la mode,
If you promise for be Madame Paul Joulin,
For I got me fine house on Bord à Plouffe road
Wit' mor'gage also on de Grande Moulin.'
But Julie she say 'Non, non, M'Sieu Paul,
Dat's not correc' t'ing for poor Jérémie
For I love dat young feller lak not'ing at all,
An' I'm very surprise you was not know me.
Jérémie w'en he's geev me dat nice gol' ring,
Las' tam he's gone off on de Mattawa
Say he's got 'noder wan w'en he's come nex' spring
Was mak' me for sure Madame Dandurand.
'I t'ank you de sam' M'Sieu Paul Joulin
I s'pose I mus' be de wife wan poor man
Wit' no chance at all for de Grande Moulin,
But leev all de tam on some small cabane.'
De Notaire Publique den is tak' hees hat,
For he t'ink sure enough dat hees dog she's dead;
Dere's no use mak' love on de girl lak dat,
Wit' not'ing but young feller on de head.
Julie she's feel lonesome mos' all dat week,
Don't know w'at may happen she wait till spring
Den t'ink de fine house of Notaire Publique
An' plaintee more too--but love's funny t'ing!
So nex' tam she see de Notaire again,
She laugh on her eye an' say 'M'Sieu Paul
Please pass on de house, or you ketch de rain,
Dat's very long tam you don't come at all.'
She's geev him so soon he's come on de door
Du vin de pays, an' some nice galettes,
She's mak' dem herse'f only day before
An' he say 'Bigosh! dat is fine girl yet.'
So he's try hees chances some more--hooraw!
Julie is not mak' so moche troub' dis tam;
She's forget de poor Jérémie Dandurand
An' tole de Notaire she will be hees famme.
W'en Jérémie come off de wood nex' spring,
An' fin' dat hees girl she was get mariée
Everybody's expec' he will do somet'ing,
But he don't do not'ing at all, dey say;
For he's got 'noder girl on Sainte Dorothée,
Dat he's love long tam, an' she don't say 'No,'
So he's forget too all about Julie
An' mak' de mariée wit' hese'f also.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Two Hundred Years Ago
Two honder year ago, de worl' is purty slow
Even folk upon dis contree 's not so
smart,
Den who is travel roun' an' look out de
pleasan' groun'
For geev' de Yankee peop' a leetle start?
I 'll tole you who dey were! de beeg rough
voyageurs,
W'it deir cousin w'at you call coureurs de bois,
Dat 's fightin' all de tam, an' never care a dam,
An' ev'ry wan dem feller he 's come from
Canadaw
Baptême!
He 's comin' all de way from Canadaw.
But He watch dem, le bon Dieu, for He's got
some work to do,
An He won't trus' ev'ry body, no siree!
Only full blood Canadien, lak Marquette an'
Hennepin,
An' w'at you t'ink of Louis Verandrye?
On church of Bonsecours! makin' ready for
de tour,
See dem down upon de knee, all prayin' dere-
Wit' de paddle on de han' ev'ry good Canad-
ien man,
An' affer dey be finish, hooraw for anyw'ere
Yass, sir!
Dey 're ready now for goin' anyw'ere.
De nort' win' know dem well, an' de prairie
grass can tell
How offen it is trample by the ole tam botte
sauvage-
An'grey wolf on hees den kip very quiet, w'en
He hear dem boy a' singin' upon de long
portage.
An' de night would fin' dem lie wit' deir faces
on de sky,
An' de breeze would come an' w' isper on deir
ear
'Bout de wife an' sweetheart dere on Sorel an'
Trois Rivieres
Dey may never leev' to see anoder year
Dat 's true,
Dey may never leev' to kiss anoder year.
An' you 'll know de place dey go, from de
canyon down below,
Or de mountain wit' hees nose aboeve de cloud,
De lake among de hill, w'ere de grizzly drink
hees fill
Or de rapid on de reever roarin' loud;
Ax de wil' deer if de flash of de ole Tree
Reever sash
He don't see it on de woods of Illinois
An' de musk ox as he go, w'ere de camp fire
melt de snow,
De smell he still remember of tabac Canadien
Ha! Ha!
It 's hard forgettin' smell of tabac Canadien!
So, ma frien' , de Yankee man, he mus' try an'
understan'
W'en he holler for dat flag de Star an'
Stripe,
If he 's leetle win' still lef', an' no danger hurt
hese'f,
Den he better geev' anoder cheer, ba cripe!
For de flag of la belle France, dat show de way
across
From Louisbourg to Florida an' back;
So raise it ev'ryw'ere, lak' de ole tam voy-
ageurs,
W'en you hear of de la Salle an' Cadillac-
Hooraw!
For de flag of de la Salle an' Cadillac.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Bateese
1 You bad leetle boy, not moche you care
2 How busy you 're kipin' your poor gran'pere
3 Tryin' to stop you ev'ry day
4 Chasin' de hen aroun' de hay--
5 W'y don't you geev' dem a chance to lay?
6 Leetle Bateese!
7 Off on de fiel' you foller de plough
8 Den w'en you 're tire you scare the cow
9 Sickin' de dog till dey jomp the wall
10 So de milk ain't good for not'ing at all--
11 An' you 're only five an' a half dis fall,
12 Leetle Bateese!
13 Too sleepy for sayin' de prayer to-night?
14 Never min' I s'pose it 'll be all right
15 Say dem to-morrow--ah! dere he go!
16 Fas' asleep in a minute or so--
17 An' he 'll stay lak dat till de rooster crow,
18 Leetle Bateese!
19 Den wake us up right away toute suite
20 Lookin' for somet'ing more to eat,
21 Makin' me t'ink of dem long leg crane
22 Soon as dey swaller, dey start again,
23 I wonder your stomach don't get no pain,
24 Leetle Bateese!
25 But see heem now lyin' dere in bed,
26 Look at de arm onderneat' hees head;
27 If he grow lak dat till he 's twenty year
28 I bet he 'll be stronger dan Louis Cyr
29 An' beat all de voyageurs leevin' here,
30 Leetle Bateese!
31 Jus' feel de muscle along hees back,
32 Won't geev' heem moche bodder for carry pack
33 On de long portage, any size canoe,
34 Dere 's not many t'ing dat boy won't do
35 For he 's got double-joint on hees body too,
36 Leetle Bateese!
37 But leetle Bateese! please don't forget
38 We rader you 're stayin' de small boy yet,
39 So chase de chicken an' mak' dem scare
40 An' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere
41 For w'en you 're beeg feller he won't be dere--
42 Leetle Bateese!
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Le Vieux Temps
1 Venez ici, mon cher ami, an' sit down by me--so
2 An' I will tole you story of old tam long ago--
3 W'en ev'ryt'ing is happy--w'en all de bird is sing
4 An' me!--I'm young an' strong lak moose an' not afraid no t'ing.
5 I close my eye jus' so, an' see de place w'ere I am born--
6 I close my ear an' lissen to musique of de horn,
7 Dat 's horn ma dear ole moder blow--an only t'ing she play
8 Is 'viens donc vite Napoléon--'peche toi pour votre souper.'--
9 An' w'en he 's hear dat nice musique--ma leetle dog 'Carleau'
10 Is place hees tail upon hees back--an' den he 's let heem go--
11 He 's jomp on fence--he 's swimmin' crik--he 's ronne two forty gait,
12 He say 'dat 's somet'ing good for eat--Carleau mus' not be late.'
13 O dem was pleasure day for sure, dem day of long ago
14 W'en I was play wit' all de boy, an' all de girl also;
15 An' many tam w'en I 'm alone an' t'ink of day gone by
16 An' pull latire an' spark de girl, I cry upon my eye.
17 Ma fader an' ma moder too, got nice, nice familee,
18 Dat 's ten garçon an' t'orteen girl, was mak' it twenty t'ree
19 But fonny t'ing de Gouvernement don't geev de firs' prize den
20 Lak w'at dey say dey geev it now, for only wan douzaine.
21 De English peep dat only got wan familee small size
22 Mus' be feel glad dat tam dere is no honder acre prize
23 For fader of twelve chil'ren--dey know dat mus' be so,
24 De Canayens would boss Kebeck--mebbe Ontario.
25 But dat is not de story dat I was gone tole you
26 About de fun we use to have w'en we leev a chez nous
27 We 're never lonesome on dat house, for many cavalier
28 Come at our place mos' every night--especially Sun-day.
29 But tam I 'member bes' is w'en I 'm twenty wan year--me--
30 An' so for mak' some pleasement--we geev wan large soirée
31 De whole paroisse she be invite--de Curé he 's come too--
32 Wit plaintee peep from 'noder place--dat 's more I can tole you.
33 De night she 's cole an' freeze also, chemin she 's fill wit snow
34 An' on de chimley lak phantome, de win' is mak' it blow--
35 But boy an' girl come all de sam an' pass on grande parloir
36 For warm itself on beeg box stove, was mak' on Trois Rivières--
37 An' w'en Bonhomme Latour commence for tune up hees fidelle
38 It mak' us all feel very glad--l'enfant! he play so well,
39 Musique suppose to be firs' class, I offen hear, for sure
40 But mos' bes' man, beat all de res', is ole Bateese Latour--
41 An' w'en Bateese play Irish jeeg, he 's learn on Mattawa
42 Dat tam he 's head boss cook Shaintee--den leetle Joe Leblanc
43 Tak' hole de beeg Marie Juneau an' dance upon de floor
44 Till Marie say 'Excuse to me, I cannot dance no more.'--
45 An' den de Curé 's mak' de speech--ole Curé Ladouceur!
46 He say de girl was spark de boy too much on some cornerre--
47 An' so he 's tole Bateese play up ole fashion reel a quatre
48 An' every body she mus' dance, dey can't get off on dat.
49 Away she go--hooraw! hooraw! plus fort Bateese, mon vieux
50 Camille Bisson, please watch your girl--dat 's bes' t'ing you can do.
51 Pass on de right an' tak' your place Mamzelle Des Trois Maisons
52 You 're s'pose for dance on Paul Laberge, not Telesphore Gagnon.
53 Mon oncle Al-fred, he spik lak' dat--'cos he is boss de floor,
54 An' so we do our possibill an' den commence encore.
55 Dem crowd of boy an' girl I'm sure keep up until nex' day
56 If ole Bateese don't stop heseff, he come so fatigué.
57 An' affer dat, we eat some t'ing, tak' leetle drink also
58 An' de Curé, he 's tole story of many year ago--
59 W'en Iroquois sauvage she 's keel de Canayens an' steal deir hair,
60 An' say dat 's only for Bon Dieu, we don't be here--he don't be dere.
61 But dat was mak' de girl feel scare--so all de cavalier
62 Was ax hees girl go home right off, an' place her on de sleigh,
63 An' w'en dey start, de Curé say, 'Bonsoir et bon voyage
64 Menagez-vous--tak' care for you--prenez-garde pour les sauvages.'
65 An' den I go meseff also, an' tak' ma belle Elmire--
66 She 's nicer girl on whole Comté, an' jus' got eighteen year--
67 Black hair--black eye, an' chick rosée dat 's lak wan fameuse on de fall
68 But don't spik much--not of dat kin', I can't say she love me at all.
69 Ma girl--she's fader beeg farmeur--leev 'noder side St. Flore
70 Got five-six honder acre--mebbe a leetle more--
71 Nice sugar bush--une belle maison--de bes' I never see--
72 So w'en I go for spark Elmire, I don't be mak' de foolish me--
73 Elmire!--she 's pass t'ree year on school--Ste. Anne de la Perade
74 An' w'en she 's tak' de firs' class prize, dat 's mak' de ole man glad;
75 He say 'Ba gosh--ma girl can wash--can keep de kitchen clean
76 Den change her dress--mak' politesse before God save de Queen.'
77 Dey 's many way for spark de girl, an' you know dat of course,
78 Some way dey might be better way, an' some dey might be worse
79 But I lak' sit some cole night wit' my girl on ole burleau
8080 Wit' lot of hay keep our foot warm--an' plaintee buffalo--
81 Dat 's geev good chances get acquaint--an' if burleau upset
82 An' t'row you out upon de snow--dat 's better chances yet--
83 An' if you help de girl go home, if horse he ronne away
84 De girl she 's not much use at all--don't geev you nice baiser!
85 Dat 's very well for fun ma frien', but w'en you spark for keep
86 She 's not sam t'ing an' mak' you feel so scare lak' leetle sheep
87 Some tam you get de fever--some tam you 're lak snowball
88 An' all de tam you ack lak' fou--can't spik no t'ing at all.
89 Wall! dat 's de way I feel meseff, wit Elmire on burleau,
90 Jus' lak' small dog try ketch hees tail--roun' roun' ma head she go
91 But bimeby I come more brave--an' tak' Elmire she's han'
92 'Laisee-moi tranquille' Elmire she say 'You mus' be crazy man.'
93 'Yass--yass I say ' mebbe you t'ink I 'm wan beeg loup garou,
94 Dat 's forty t'ousand 'noder girl, I lef' dem all for you,
95 I s'pose you know Polique Gauthier your frien' on St. Cesaire
96 I ax her marry me nex' wick--she tak' me--I don't care.'
97 Ba gosh; Elmire she don't lak dat--it mak' her feel so mad--
98 She commence cry, say ''Poleon you treat me very bad--
99 I don't lak see you t'row you'seff upon Polique Gauthier,
100 So if you say you love me sure--we mak' de marieé'--
101 Oh it was fine tam affer dat--Castor I t'ink he know,
102 We 're not too busy for get home--he go so nice an' slow,
103 He 's only upset t'ree--four tam--an' jus' about daylight
104 We pass upon de ole man's place--an' every t'ing 's all right.
105 Wall! we leev happy on de farm for nearly fifty year,
106 Till wan day on de summer tam--she die--ma belle Elmire
107 I feel so lonesome lef' behin'--I tink 't was bes' mebbe--
108 Dat w'en le Bon Dieu tak' ma famme--he should not forget me.
109 But dat is hees biz-nesse ma frien'--I know dat 's all right dere
110 I 'll wait till he call ''Poleon' den I will be prepare--
111 An' w'en he fin' me ready, for mak' de longue voyage
112 He guide me t'roo de wood hesef upon ma las' portage.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Bateese The Lucky Man
He's alway ketchin' doré, an'he 's alway
ketchin' trout
On de place w'ere no wan else can ketch at all
He 's alway ketchin' barbotte, dat 's w'at you
call bull-pout,
An' he never miss de wil' duck on de fall.
O! de pa'tridge do some skippin' w'en she see
heem on de swamp
For she know Bateese don't go for not'ing
dere,
An' de rabbit if he 's comin' , wall! you ought
to see heem jomp.
W'y he want to climb de tree he feel so
scare.
Affer two hour by de reever I hear hees leetle
song
Den I meet heem all hees pocket full of snipe,
An' me, I go de sam' place, an' I tramp de
w'ole day long
An' I'm only shootin' two or t'ree, Ba Cripe!
I start about de sun-rise, an' I put out ma
decoy,
An' before it 's comin' breakfas' , he 's holler
on hees boy
For carry home two dozen duck or more.
An' I'm freezin' on de blin'-me- from four
o'clock to nine
An' ev'ry duck she 's passin' up so high.
Dere 's blue-bill an' butter-ball, an' red-head,
de fines' kin
An' I might as well go shootin' on de sky.
Don't see de noder feller lak Bateese was lucky
man,
He can ketch de smartes' feesh is never
sweem,
An' de bird he seldom miss dem, let dem try
de hard dey can
W'y de eagle on de mountain can't fly
away from heem.
But all de bird, an' fish too, is geev'up feelin'
scare,
An' de rabbit he can stay at home in bed,
For he feesh an' shoot no longer, ole Jean
Bateese Belair,
'Cos he 's dead.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
De Habitant
De place I get born, me, is up on de reever
Near foot of de rapide dat's call Cheval Blanc
Beeg mountain behin' it, so high you can't climb it
An' whole place she's mebbe two honder arpent.
De fader of me, he was habitant farmer,
Ma gran' fader too, an' hees fader also,
Dey don't mak' no monee, but dat isn't fonny
For it's not easy get ev'ryt'ing, you mus' know--
All de sam' dere is somet'ing dey got ev'ryboddy,
Dat's plaintee good healt', wat de monee can't geev,
So I'm workin' away dere, an' happy for stay dere
On farm by de reever, so long I was leev.
O! dat was de place w'en de spring tam she's comin',
W'en snow go away, an' de sky is all blue--
W'en ice lef' de water, an' sun is get hotter
An' back on de medder is sing de gou-glou--
W'en small sheep is firs' comin' out on de pasture,
Deir nice leetle tail stickin' up on deir back,
Dey ronne wit' deir moder, an' play wit' each oder
An' jomp all de tam jus' de sam' dey was crack--
An' ole cow also, she's glad winter is over,
So she kick herse'f up, an' start off on de race
Wit' de two-year-ole heifer, dat's purty soon lef' her,
W'y ev'ryt'ing's crazee all over de place!
An' down on de reever de wil' duck is quackin'
Along by de shore leetle san'piper ronne--
De bullfrog he's gr-rompin' an' doré is jompin'
Dey all got deir own way for mak' it de fonne.
But spring's in beeg hurry, an' don't stay long wit' us
An' firs' t'ing we know, she go off till nex' year,
Den bee commence hummin', for summer is comin'
An' purty soon corn's gettin' ripe on de ear.
Dat's very nice tam for wake up on de morning
An' lissen de rossignol sing ev'ry place,
Feel sout' win' a-blowin' see clover a-growin'
An' all de worl' laughin' itself on de face.
Mos' ev'ry day raf' it is pass on de rapide
De voyageurs singin' some ole chanson
'Bout girl down de reever--too bad dey mus' leave her,
But comin' back soon' wit' beaucoup d'argent.
An' den w'en de fall an' de winter come roun' us
An' bird of de summer is all fly away,
W'en mebbe she's snowin' an' nort' win' is blowin'
An' night is mos' t'ree tam so long as de day.
You t'ink it was bodder de habitant farmer?
Not at all--he is happy an' feel satisfy,
An' cole may las' good w'ile, so long as de wood-pile
Is ready for burn on de stove by an' bye.
W'en I got plaintee hay put away on de stable
So de sheep an' de cow, dey got no chance to freeze,
An' de hen all togedder--I don't min' de wedder--
De nort' win' may blow jus' so moche as she please.
An' some cole winter night how I wish you can see us,
W'en I smoke on de pipe, an' de ole woman sew
By de stove of T'ree Reever--ma wife's fader geev her
On day we get marry, dat's long tam ago--
De boy an' de girl, dey was readin' it's lesson,
De cat on de corner she's bite heem de pup,
Ole 'Carleau' he's snorin' an' beeg stove is roarin'
So loud dat I'm scare purty soon she bus' up.
Philomene--dat's de oldes'--is sit on de winder
An' kip jus' so quiet lak wan leetle mouse,
She say de more finer moon never was shiner--
Very fonny, for moon isn't dat side de house.
But purty soon den, we hear foot on de outside,
An' some wan is place it hees han' on de latch,
Dat's Isidore Goulay, las' fall on de Brulé
He's tak' it firs' prize on de grand ploughin' match.
Ha! ha! Philomene!--dat was smart trick you play us
Come help de young feller tak' snow from hees neck,
Dere's not'ing for hinder you come off de winder
W'en moon you was look for is come, I expec'--
Isidore, he is tole us de news on de parish
'Bout hees Lajeunesse Colt--travel two forty, sure,
'Bout Jeremie Choquette, come back from Woonsocket
An' t'ree new leetle twin on Madame Vaillancour'.
But nine o'clock strike, an' de chil'ren is sleepy,
Mese'f an' ole woman can't stay up no more
So alone by de fire--'cos dey say dey ain't tire--
We lef' Philomene an' de young Isidore.
I s'pose dey be talkin' beeg lot on de kitchen
'Bout all de nice moon dey was see on de sky,
For Philomene's takin' long tam get awaken
Nex' day, she's so sleepy on bote of de eye.
Dat's wan of dem ting's, ev'ry tam on de fashion,
An' 'bout nices' t'ing dat was never be seen.
Got not'ing for say me--I spark it sam' way me
W'en I go see de moder ma girl Philomene.
We leev very quiet 'way back on de contree
Don't put on sam style lak de big village,
W'en we don't get de monee you t'ink dat is fonny
An' mak' plaintee sport on de Bottes Sauvages.
But I tole you--dat's true--I don't go on de city
If you geev de fine house an' beaucoup d'argent--
I rader be stay me, an' spen' de las' day me
On farm by de rapide dat's call Cheval Blanc.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ole Tam On Bord-A-Plouffe
I lak on summer ev'ning, w'en nice cool win' is blowin'
An' up above ma head, I hear de pigeon on de roof,
To bring ma chair an' sit dere, an' watch de current flowin'
Of ole Riviere des Prairies as she pass de Bord-a Plouffe.
But it seem dead place for sure now, on shore down by de lan'in'--
No more de voyageurs is sing lak dey was sing alway--
De tree dey're commence growin' w'ere shaintee once is stan'in',
An' no one scare de swallow w'en she fly across de bay.
I don't lak see de reever she's never doin' not'in'
But passin' empty ev'ry day on Bout de l'ile below--
Ma ole shaloup dat's lyin' wit' all its timber rottin'
An' tam so change on Bord-a Plouffe since forty year ago!
De ice dat freeze on winter, might jus' as well be stay dere,
For w'en de spring she's comin' de only t'ing I see
Is two, t'ree piqnique feller, hees girl was row away dere,
Don't got no use for water now, on Riviere des Prairies.
'Twas diff'rent on dem summer you couldn't see de reever,
Wit' saw-log an' squar' timber raf', mos' all de season t'roo--
Two honder man an' more too--all busy lak de beaver,
An' me! I'm wan de pilot for ronne 'em down de 'Soo.'
Don't 'member lak I use to, for now I'm gettin' ole, me--
But still I can't forget Bill Wade, an' Guillaume Lagassé,
Joe Monferrand, Bazile Montour--wit' plaintee I can't tole, me,
An' king of all de Bord-a Plouffe, M'sieu' Venance Lemay.
Lak small boy on hees lesson, I learn de way to han'le
Mos' beeges' raf' is never float upon de Ottawaw,
Ma fader show me dat too, for well he know de channel,
From Dutchman Rapide up above to Bout de l'ile en bas.
He's smart man too, ma fader, only t'ing he got de bow-leg,
Ridin' log w'en leetle feller, mebbe dat's de reason w'y,
All de sam', if he's in hurry, den Bagosh! he's got heem no leg
But wing an' fedder lak oiseau, was fly upon de sky!
O dat was tam we're happy, an' man dey're alway singin',
For if it's hard work on de raf', w'y dere's your monee sure!
An' ev'ry summer evenin', ole Bord-a Plouffe she's ringin'
Wit' 'En Roulant ma Boulé' an' 'J'aimerai toujour.'
Dere dey're comin' on de wagon! fine young feller ev'ry wan too,
Dress im up de ole tam fashion, dat I lak for see encore,
Yellin' hooraw! t'roo de village, all de horse upon de ronne too,
Ah poor Bord-a Plouffe! she never have dem tam again no more!
Very offen w'en I'm sleepin', I was feel as if I'm goin'
Down de ole Riviere des Prairies on de raf' de sam as den--
An' ma dream is only lef' me, w'en de rooster commence crowin'
But it can't do me no harm, 'cos it mak me young again.
An' upon de morning early, wen de reever fog is clearin'
An' sun is makin' up hees min' for drive away de dew,
W'en young bird want hees breakfas', I wak' an' t'ink I'm hearin'
Somebody shout 'Hooraw, Bateese, de raf' she's wait for you.'
Dat's voice of Guillaume Lagassé was call me on de morning
Jus' outside on de winder w'ere you look across de bay,
But he's drown upon de Longue 'Soo,' wit' never word of warning
An' green grass cover over poor Guillaume Lagassé.
I s'pose dat's meanin' somet'ing--mebbe I'm not long for stay here,
Seein' all dem strange t'ing happen--dead frien' comin' roun' me so--
But I'm sure I die more happy, if I got jus' wan more day here,
Lak we have upon de ole tam Bord-a Plouffe of long ago!
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Old Sexton
I know very well t'was purty hard case
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place
Dan village of Cote St. Paul,
But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more
Wit' de blacksmit' shop an' two fine store
Not to speak of de church an' de city hall.
An' of course on village lak dat you fin'
Some very nice girl if you have a min'
To look aroun', an' we got dem too-
But de fines' of all never wear a ring,
Since first I 'm t'inkin' of all dem t'ing,
Was daughter of ole Narcisse Beaulieu.
Narcisse he 's bedeau on de beeg church dere,
He also look affer de presbytere,
An' leev on de house close by,
On Sunday he 's watchin' de leetle boys,
Stoppin' dem kickin' up too much noise,
An' he bury de peop' w'en dey 're comin' die.
So dat 's w'at he do, Narcisse Beaulieu,
An' it 's not very easy I 'm tolin' you,
But a purty large heavy load,
For on summer de cow she was run aroun'
An' eat all de flower on de Curé 's groun'
An'before he can ketch her, p-s-s-t! she 's
down de road.
Dat 's not'ing at all, for w'en winter come
Narcisse got plaintee more work, ba gum!
Shovellin' snow till hees back was sore,
Makin' some track for de horse an' sleigh,
Kipin' look out dey don 't run away,
An' freezin' outside on de double door.
But w'enever de vault on de church is fill
Wit' de peop' was waitin' down dere ontil
Dey can go on de cimetière,
For fear dem student will come aroun'
An' tak' de poor dead folk off to town
Narcisse offen watch for dem all night dere.
An' de girl Josephine she 's her fader's pet,
He never see nobody lak her yet,
So w'en he 's goin' on St. Jerome
For travel about on some leetle tour
An' lef' her alone on de house, I'm sure
De house she 's all right w'en he 's comin'
home.
Wall! nearly t'ree year is come an' go,
De quietes' year de village know,
For dem student don 't show hees face,
An' de peop' is beginnin' to ax w'at for
Dey 're alway goin' on Ile Bizard
An' never pass on our place.
But it 's bully tam for de ole Narcisse,
An' w'en he 's lettin' heem go de pries'
For stay away two t'ree day
He t'ink of course it was purty good chance,
So he buy heem new coat an' pair of pants,
An' go see hees frien' noder side de bay.
An' dat very sam night, ba gosh! it seem
De girl 's not dreamin' some pleasan' dream
For she visit de worse place never seen
Down on T'ree Reever, an' near Kebeck
W'ere robber-man 's chokin' her on de neck-
De poor leetle Josephine!
So she 's risin' up den and she tak' de gun
An' off on de winder she quickly run
For fear she might need a shot
An' dem student he 's comin' across de square
Right on de front of de cimetière
An' carryin' somet'ing -you know w'at!
So she 's takin' good aim on de beeges' man
Abn' pull de trigger de hard she can,
An' he 's yellin' an' don he go,
Hees frien' dey say not'ing, but clear out quick,
Dat 's way Josephine she was playin' trick
On feller was treatin' poor dead folk so!
Den she kick up a row an' begin' to feel
Very sorry right off for de boy she keel
An' de nex' t'ing she 's startin' cry
An' call on her fader an' moder too,
Poor leetle Josephine Beaulieu,
An' wishin' she'd lak to die.
But she did n't die den, an' he 's leevin' yet-
Dat feller was comin' so near hees deat'-
For she nursin' heem back to life,
Dey 're feexin' it someway, I dunno how,
But dey 're marry an' leev'in de city now
An' she 's makin' heem firse classe wife.
An' Narcisse hese'f he was alway say,
'It 's fonny t'ing how it come dat way
But I 'm not very sorry at all,
Course I know ma son he 's not doin' right,
But man he was haulin' aroun' dat night
Is worse ole miser on Cote St. Paul.'
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
De Stove Pipe Hole
Dat's very cole an' stormy night on Village St. Mathieu,
W'en ev'ry wan he's go couché, an' dog was quiet, too--
Young Dominique is start heem out see Emmeline Gourdon,
Was leevin' on her fader's place, Maxime de Forgeron.
Poor Dominique he's lak dat girl, an' love her mos' de tam,
An' she was mak' de promise--sure--some day she be his famme,
But she have worse ole fader dat's never on de worl',
Was swear onless he's riche lak diable, no feller's get hees girl.
He's mak' it plaintee fuss about hees daughter Emmeline,
Dat's mebbe nice girl, too, but den, Mon Dieu, she's not de queen!
An' w'en de young man's come aroun' for spark it on de door,
An' hear de ole man swear 'Bapteme!' he's never come no more.
Young Dominique he's sam' de res',--was scare for ole Maxime,
He don't lak risk hese'f too moche for chances seein' heem,
Dat's only stormy night he come, so dark you cannot see,
An dat's de reason w'y also, he's climb de gallerie.
De girl she's waitin' dere for heem--don't care about de rain,
So glad for see young Dominique he's comin' back again,
Dey bote forget de ole Maxime, an' mak de embrasser
An affer dey was finish dat, poor Dominique is say--
'Good-bye, dear Emmeline, good-bye; I'm goin' very soon,
For you I got no better chance, dan feller on de moon--
It's all de fault your fader, too, dat I be go away,
He's got no use for me at all--I see dat ev'ry day.
'He's never meet me on de road but he is say 'Sapré!'
An' if he ketch me on de house I'm scare he's killin' me,
So I mus' lef' ole St. Mathieu, for work on 'noder place,
An' till I mak de beeg for-tune, you never see ma face.'
Den Emmeline say 'Dominique, ma love you'll alway be
An' if you kiss me two, t'ree tam I'll not tole noboddy--
But prenez garde ma fader, please, I know he's gettin ole--
All sam' he offen walk de house upon de stockin' sole.
'Good-bye, good-bye, cher Dominique! I know you will be true,
I don't want no riche feller me, ma heart she go wit' you.'
Dat's very quick he's kiss her den, before de fader come,
But don't get too moche pleasurement--so 'fraid de ole Bonhomme.
Wall! jus' about dey're half way t'roo wit all dat love beez-nesse
Emmeline say, 'Dominique, w'at for you're scare lak all de res?
Don't see mese'f moche danger now de ole man come aroun','
W'en minute affer dat, dere's noise, lak' house she's fallin' down.
Den Emmeline she holler 'Fire! will no wan come for me?'
An Dominique is jomp so high, near bus' de gallerie,--
'Help! help! right off,' somebody shout, 'I'm killin' on ma place,
It's all de fault ma daughter, too, dat girl she's ma disgrace.'
He's kip it up long tam lak dat, but not hard tellin' now,
W'at's all de noise upon de house--who's kick heem up de row?
It seem Bonhomme was sneak aroun' upon de stockin' sole,
An' firs' t'ing den de ole man walk right t'roo de stove pipe hole.
W'en Dominique is see heem dere, wit' wan leg hang below,
An' 'noder leg straight out above, he's glad for ketch heem so--
De ole man can't do not'ing, den, but swear and ax for w'y
Noboddy tak' heem out dat hole before he's comin' die.
Den Dominique he spik lak dis, 'Mon cher M'sieur Gourdon
I'm not riche city feller, me, I'm only habitant,
But I was love more I can tole your daughter Emmeline,
An' if I marry on dat girl, Bagosh! she's lak de Queen.
'I want you mak de promise now, before it's come too late,
An' I mus' tole you dis also, dere's not moche tam for wait.
Your foot she's hangin' down so low, I'm 'fraid she ketch de cole,
Wall! if you give me Emmeline, I pull you out de hole.'
Dat mak' de ole man swear more hard he never swear before,
An' wit' de foot he's got above, he's kick it on de floor,
'Non, non,' he say 'Sapré tonnerre! she never marry you,
An' if you don't look out you get de jail on St. Mathieu.'
'Correc',' young Dominique is say, 'mebbe de jail's tight place,
But you got wan small corner, too, I see it on de face,
So if you don't lak geev de girl on wan poor habitant,
Dat's be mese'f, I say, Bonsoir, mon cher M'sieur Gourdon.'
'Come back, come back,' Maxime is shout--I promise you de girl,
I never see no wan lak you--no never on de worl'!
It's not de nice trick you was play on man dat's gettin' ole,
But do jus' w'at you lak, so long you pull me out de hole.'
'Hooraw! Hooraw!' Den Dominique is pull heem out tout suite
An' Emmeline she's helpin' too for place heem on de feet,
An' affer dat de ole man's tak' de young peep down de stair,
W'ere he is go couchè right off, an' dey go on parloir.
Nex' Sunday morning dey was call by M'sieur le Curé
Get marry soon, an' ole Maxime geev Emmeline away;
Den affer dat dey settle down lak habitant is do,
An' have de mos' fine familee on Village St. Mathieu.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Ole Docteur Fiset
Ole Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet,
Sapré tonnerre! he was leev long tam!
I'm sure he's got ninety year or so,
Beat all on de Parish 'cept Pierre Courteau,
An' day affer day he work all de sam'.
Dat house on de hill, you can see it still,
She's sam' place he buil' de firs' tam' he come
Behin' it dere's one leetle small jardin
Got plaintee de bes' tabac Canayen
Wit' fameuse apple an' beeg blue plum.
An' dey're all right dere, for de small boy's scare
No matter de apple look nice an' red,
For de small boy know if he's stealin' some
Den Docteur Fiset on dark night he come,
An' cut leetle feller right off hees head!
But w'en dey was rap, an' tak' off de cap,
M'sieu' le Docteur he will say 'Entrez,'
Den all de boy pass on jardin behin'
W'ere dey eat mos' ev'ryt'ing good dey fin',
Till dey can't go on school nearly two, t'ree day.
But Docteur Fiset, not moche fonne he get,
Drivin' all over de whole contree,
If de road she's bad, if de road she's good,
W'en ev'ryt'ing's drown on de Spring-tam flood,
An' workin' for not'ing half tam' mebbe!
Let her rain or snow, all he want to know
Is jus' if anywan's feelin' sick,
For Docteur Fiset's de ole fashion kin'
Doin' good was de only t'ing on hees min'
So he got no use for de politique.
An' he's careful too, 'cos firs' t'ing he do,
For fear dere was danger some fever case,
Is tak' w'en he's come leetle w'isky chaud,
Den 'noder wan too jus' before he go,
He's so scare carry fever aroun' de place!
On nice summer day w'en we're makin' hay
Dere's not'ing more pleasant for us I'm sure
Dan see de ole man come joggin' along,
Alway singin' some leetle song,
An' hear heem say 'Tiens, mes amis, Bonjour!'
An' w'en de cole rain was commence again
An' we're sittin' at home on some warm cornerre,
If we hear de buggy an' see de light
Tearin' along t'roo de black, black night,
We know right off dat's de ole Docteur!
An' he's smart horse sure, w'at he call 'Faubourg,'
Ev'ry place on de Parish he know dem all,
An' you ought to see de nice way he go
For fear he's upsettin' upon de snow,
W'en ole man's asleep on de cariole!
I 'member w'en poor Hormisdas Couture
Get sick on hees place twenty mile away
An' hees boy Ovide he was come 'Raquette'
W'at you call 'Snowshoe,' for Docteur Fiset,
An' Docteur he start wit' hees horse an' sleigh.
All de night before, de beeg storm she roar,
An' mos' of de day it's de sam' also,
De drif' was pilin' up ten feet high
You can't see not'ing dis side de sky,
Not'ing but wan avalanche of snow.
I'm hearin' de bell w'en I go on de well
For water de cattle on barn close by,
But I only ketch sight of hees cheval blanc
An' hees coonskin coat wit' de capuchon
An' de storm tak' heem off, jus' de sam' he fly.
Mus' be le Bon Dieu dat is help him t'roo,
Ole Docteur Fiset an' hees horse 'Faubourg,'
'Twas somet'ing for splain-me, wall I don't care,
But somehow or 'noder he's gettin' dere,
An' save de life Hormisdas Couture.
But it's sam' alway, lak' dat ev'ry day,
He never was spare hese'f pour nous autres,
He don't mak' moche monee, Docteur Fiset,
An' offen de only t'ing he was get
Is de prayer of poor man, an' wan bag of oat.
* * * * *
Wall! Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet
He is not dead yet! an' I'm purty sure
If you're passin' dat place about ten year more
You will see heem go roun' lak' he go before
Wit' de ole cariole an' hees horse 'Faubourg!'
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mon Frere Camille
Mon frere Camille he was first class blood
W'en he come off de State las' fall,
Wearin' hees boot a la mode box toe
An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also
Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;
But now he 's no blood at all,
Camille, mon frere.
W'at 's makin' dat change on mon frere
Camille?
Wall! lissen for minute or two,
An' I 'll try feex it up on de leetle song
Dat 's geevin' some chance kin' o' help it
along
So wedder I'm right or wedder I'm wrong
You 'll know all about heem w'en I get
t'roo,
Mon frere Camille.
He never sen' leter for t' orteen year
So of course he mus' be all right
Till telegraph 's comin' from Kan-Ka-Kee
'I 'm leffin' dis place on de half pas't'ree
W'at you want to bring is de beg' buggee
An' double team sure for me t' orsday night
Ton frere Camille.'
I wish you be dere w'en Camille arrive
I bet you will say 'W'at 's dat?'
For he 's got leetle cap very lak tuque bleu
Ole habitant 's wearin' in bed, dat's true,
An' w'at do you t'ink he carry too?
Geev it up? Wall! small valise wit' de fine
plug hat.
Mon frere Camille.
'Very strange.' I know you will say right off,
For dere 's not'ing wrong wit' hees clothes,
An' he put on style all de bes' he can
Wit' diamon' shinin' across hees han'
An' de way he's talkin' lak Yankee man
Mus' be purty hard on hees nose,
Mon frere Camille.
But he 's splain all dat about funny cap,
An' tole us de reason w'y,
It seem no feller can travel far,
An' specially too on de Pullman car,
'Less dey wear leetle cap only 'cos dollarre,
Dat 's true if he never die,
Mon frere Camille.
Don't look very strong dem fancy boot
But he 's splain all dat also
He say paten' ledder she 's nice an' gay
You don't need to polish dem ev'ry day,
Besides he 's too busy for dat alway,
W'en he's leevin' on Chi-caw-go,
Mon frere Camille.
But de State she was n't de only place
He visit all up an' down,
For he's goin' Cu-baw an' de Mex-i-co,
W'ere he 's killin' two honder dem wil' taureau,
W'at you call de bull: on de circus show,
O! if you believe heem he travel roun'.
Mon frere Camille.
So of course w'en ma broder was gettin' home
All de peop' on de parish come
Every night on de parlor for hear heem tell
How he foller de brave General Roosvel'
W'en rough rider feller dey fight lak hell
An' he walk on de front wit' great beg
drum,
Mon frere Camille.
An' how is he gainin' dat diamon' ring?
Way off on de Mex-i-co
W'ere he 's pilin' de bull wan summer day
Till it 's not easy haulin' dem all away,
An' de lady dey 're t'rowin' heem large
bouquet
For dey lak de style he was keel taureau,
Mon frere Camille.
Wall! he talk dat way all de winter t'roo,
An' hees frien' dey was tryin' fin'
Some bull on de country dat 's wil' enough
For mon frere camille, but it 's purty tough
'Cos de farmer 's not raisin' such fightin' stuff
An' he don't want not'ing but mos' worse
kin'
Mon frere Camille.
Dat 'd not pleasan' t'ing mebbe los' hees trade,
If we don't hurry up, for sure,
I s'pose you t'ink I was goin' it strong?
Never min' , somet'ing happen 'fore very long
It 'll all come out on dis leetle song
W'en he pass on de house of Ma-dame
Latour
Camille, mon frere.
We 're makin' pique-nique on Denise Latour
For helpin' put in de hay
Too bad she 's de moder large familee
An' los' de bes' husban' she never see
W'en he drown on de reever, poor Jeremie,
So he come wit' de res' of de gang dat day,
Camille, mon frere.
An' affer de hay it was put away
Don't tak' very long at all,
De boy an' de girl she was lookin' 'roun
For havin' more fun 'fore dey lef' de groun'
An' dey see leetle bull, mebbe t'ree honder
poun'
An' nex' t'ing I hear dem call
Mon frere Camille.
So nice leetle feller I never see
Dat bull of Ma-dame Latour
Wit' curly hair on de front hees head
An' quiet? jus' sam' he was almos' dead
An' fat? wall! de chil'ren dey see heem fed
So he 's not goin' keel heem I 'm very sure,
Mon frere Camille.
But de girl kip teasin' an' ole Ma-dame
She say, 'You can go ahead
He cos' me four dollarre six mont' ago
So if anyt'ing happen ma small taureau,
Who 's pay me dat monee I lak to know?'
An' he answer, 'Dat 's me w'en I keel
heem dead'
Mon frere Camille.
Den he feex beeg knife on de twelve foot pole,
So de chil'ren commence to cry
An' he jomp on de fence, an' yell, 'Hooraw'
An' shout on de leetle French bull, 'Dis donc!
Ain't you scare w'en you see feller from Cu-
baw?'
An' he show heem hees red necktie,
Mon frere Camille.
L'petit taureau w'en he see dat tie
He holler for half a mile
Den he jomp on de leg an' he raise de row
Ba Golly! I'm sure I can see heem now.
An' dey run w'en dey hear heem, de noder
cow
Den he say, 'Dat bull must be surely wil''
Mon frere Camille.
But de bull don't care w'at he say at all,
For he 's watchin' dat red necktie
An' w'en ma broder he push de pole
I 'm sure it 's makin' some purty large hole,
If de bull be dere, but ma blood run col'
For de nex' t'ing I hear heem cry,
Camille, mon frere.
No wonder he cry, for dat sapree bull
He 's yell leetle bit some more,
Den he ketch ma broder dat small taureau
Only cos' four dollarre six mont' ago
An' he 's t'rowin' heem up from de groun'
below
Wan tam, two tam, till he 's feelin' sore,
Camille, mon frere.
An' w'en ma broder 's come down agen
I s'pose he mus' change hees min'
An' mebbe t'ink if it 's all de sam'
He 'll keel dat bull w'en he get more tam
For dere he was runnin' wit' ole Ma-dame
De chil'ren, de bull, an' de cow behin'
Camille, mon frere.
So dat's de reason he 's firse class blood
W'en he come off de State las' fall
Wearin' hees boot a la mode bo toe
An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also
Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go
But now he 's no blood at all,
Camille, mon frere.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Johnnie Courteau
Johnnie Courteau of de mountain
Johnnie Courteau of de hill
Dat was de boy can shoot de gun
Dat was de boy can jomp an' run
An'it's not very often you ketch heem still
Johnnie Courteau !
Ax dem along de reever
Ax dem along de shore
Who was de mos'bes'fightin'man
From Managance to Shaw-in-I-gan?
De place we're de great beeg rapide roar,
Johnnie Courteau !
Sam'tíng on ev'ry shaintee
Up on de Mekinac
Who was the man man walk de log,
W'en w'ole of de reever she's black wit'fog
An'carry de beeges'load on hees back?
Johnnie Courteau !
On de rapide you want to see heem
If de raf'she 's swingin'roun'
An'he 's yellin' 'Hooray Bateese! good
man!'
W'y de oar come double on hees han'
W'en he's makin' dat raf'go flyin'down
Johnnie Courteau !
An' Tête de Boule chief can tole you
De feller w'at save hees life
W'en beeg moose on de head, sapree!
An'den run off wit' hees Injun wife?
Johnnie Courteau !
An' he only have pike pole wit'heem
On Lac a la Tortue
W'en he meet de bear comin' down the hill
But de bear very soon is get hees fill!
An' he sole dat skin for ten dollar too,
Johnnie Courteau !
Oh he never was scare for not'ing
Lak de ole coureurs de bois,
But w'en he's getting'hees winter pay
De bes't'ing sure is kip out de way
For he's goin'right off on de Hip Hooraw!
Johnnie Courteau !
Den pullin'hees sash aroun'heem
He dance on hees botte sauvage
An'shout 'All aboar' if you want to fight!'
Wall! You never can see de finer sight
W'en he go lak dat on de w'ole village!
Johnnie Courteau !
But Johnnie Courteau get marry
On Philomene Beaurepaire
She's nice leetle girl was run de school
On w'at you call Parish of Sainte Ursule
An' he see her off on de pique-nique dere
Johnnie Courteau !
Den somet'ing come over Johnnie
W'en he marry on Philomene
For he stay on de farm de w'ole year roun'
He chop de wood an' he plough de ground'
An' he's quieter feller was never seen,
Johnnie Courteau !
An'ev'ry wan feel astonish
From La Tuque to Shaw-in-i-gan
W'en dey hear de news was goin' aroun'
Along on de reever up an' down
How wan leetle woman boss dat beeg man
Johnnie Courteau !
He never come out on de evening
No matter de hard we try
'Cos he stay on de kitchen an' sing hees song
'A la claire fontaine
M'en allant promener
J'ai trouvé l'eau si belle
Que je m'y suis baigner
Lui y'a longtemps que je t'aime
Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'
Rockin' de cradle de w'ole night long
Till baby's asleep on de sweet bimeby
Johnnie Courteau !
An'de house, wall! I wish you see it
De place she's so nice an' clean
Mus'wipe your foot on de outside door,
You're dead man sure if you spit on de floor,
An' he never say not'ing on Philomene
Johnnie Courteau !
An' Philomene watch de monee
An' put it all safe away
On very good place; I dunno w'ere
But anyhow nobody see it dere
So she's buyin' new farm de noder day
MADAME Courteau !
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Little Mouse
Get along leetle mouse, kick de snow up
behin' you
For it's fine winter road we 're travelto-
night
Wit' de moon an' de star shinin' up on de sky
dere
W'y it 's almos' de sam' as de broad day
light.
De bell roun' your body it 's quick tune dey 're
playin'
But your foot 's kippin' tam jus' as steady
can be,
Ah! you dance youse'f crazy if only I let you,
Ma own leetle pony- petite souris.
You 'member w'en firse we be tryin' for broke
you
An' Joe Sauvageau bet hees two dollar bill
He can drive you alone by de bridge on de
reever
An' down near de place w'ere dey got de
beeg mill.
An' it 's new cariole too, is come from St.
Felix
Jo-seph 's only buyin' it week before,
An' w'en he is passin' de road wit' hees trotter
Ev'ry body was stan' on de outside door.
An' dere he sit, sam' he don 't care about
not'ing
Hees foot on de dashboar', hees han' on de
line
Ev'ry dog on de place is come out for barkin'
An' all de young boy he was runnin' behin' .
Wall! sir, Joe's put on style leetle soon for
hees pleasure
For w'en de mill w'issle, you jomp lak de
cat
An' nex' t'ing poor Joe is commencin' get
busy,
Non! I never see fine run-away lak dat.
'Way go de pony den- 'way go de cariole,
Poor Joe say , 'good-bye' on de foot of de
hill
An' all he can see of de sleigh de nex' morning
Is jus' about pay for hees two dollar bill.
Ah! your right nam' jus' den should be leetle
devil
An' not leetle mouse, de sam' you have now.
Wall! dat 's long ago, an' you 're gettin' more
quiet
Since tam you was never done kickin' de
row.
But I 'm not very sorry de firse day I see you
Settle down on de trot lak your fader he get
W'en he beat Sorel Boy on de ice at T'ree
Reever
Bes' two on t'ree heat, an' win all de bet.
Your moder she 's come off de Lachapelle stock
too
Ole Canayen blood from Berthier en haut
De bes' kin' of horse never look on de halter
So it is n't moche wonder you know how to
go.
Dat's church bell we 're hearin' off dere on de
hillside
Get along leetle mouse, for we must n't be
late,
Fin' your way t'roo de res' of dem crowdin' de
roadside
You 'll never get better chance showin' your
gait.
Wall! church is all over, an' Josephine 's comin'
For drive wit' us home on her gran' moder 's
house
So tak' your own tam an' don 't be on de hurry
Your slowes' gait 's quick enough now, leetle
mouse.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Johnnie's First Moose
De cloud is hide de moon, but dere's plain-
tee light above,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Move de paddle leetle quicker, an' de ole canoe
we'll shove
T'roo de water nice an' quiet
For de place we're goin' try it
Is beyon' de silver birch dere
You can see it lak a church dere
W'en we're passin' on de corner w'ere de lilly
flower grow.
Was n't dat correc' w'at I'm tolin' you jus
now?
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Never min', I'll watch behin'- me - an' you
can watch de bow
An' you'll see a leetle clearer
W'en canoe is comin' nearer-
Dere she is-now easy, easy,
For de win' is gettin' breezy,
An' we don't want not'ing smell us, till de
horn begin to blow-
I remember long ago w'en ma fader tak' me out,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Jus' de way I'm takin' you, sir, hello! was
dat a shout?
Seems to me I t'ink I'm hearin'
Somet'ing stirrin' on de clearin'
W'ere it stan' de lumber shaintee,
If it's true, den yuo'll have plaintee
Work to do in half a minute, if de moose don't
start to go.
An' now we're on de shore, let us hide de ole
canoe,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
An' lie among de rushes, dat's bes' t'ing we
can do,
For de ole boy may be closer
Dan anybody know, sir,
An' look out you don't be shakin'
Or de bad shot you'll be makin'
But I'm feelin' sam' way too, me, w'en I
was young, also-
You ready for de call? here goes for number
wan,
Steady Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low,
Did you hear how nice I do it, an' how it
travel on
Till ir reach across de reever
Dat'll geev' some moose de fever!
Wait now, Johnnie, don't you worry,
No use bein' on de hurry,
But lissen for de answer, it'll come before you
know.
For w'y you jomp lak dat? w'at's matter wit'
your ear?
Steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low-
Tak' your finger off de trigger, dat was only
bird you hear,
Can't you tell de pine tree crickin'
Or de boule frog w'en he's spikin' ?
Don't you know de grey owl singin'
From de beeg moose w'en he's ringin'
Out hees challenge on de message your ole
gran' fader blow?
You're lucky boy to-night, wit' hunter man
lak me!
Steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head down
low-
Can tole you all about it! H-s-s-h! dat's
somet'ing now I see,
Dere he's comin' t'roo de bushes,
So get down among de rushes,
Hear heem walk! I t'ink, by tonder,
He mus' go near fourteen honder!
Dat's de feller I been watchin' all de evening,
I dunno.
I'll geev' anoder call, jus' a leetle wan or
two,
Steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head dwon
low-
W'en he see dere's no wan waitin' I wonder
w'at he'll do?
But look out for here he's comin'
Sa-pris-ti! ma heart is drummin'!
You can never get heem nearer
An' de moon is shinin' clearer,
W'at a fine shot you'll be havin'! now
Johnnie let her go!
Bang! bang! you got heem sure! an' he'll
never run away
Nor feed among de lily on de shore of Wes-
sonneau,
So dat's your firse moose Johnnie! wall! re-
member all I say-
Does n't matter w'at you 're chasin',
Does n't matter w'at you 're facin',
Only watch de t'ing you're doin'
If you don't, ba gosh! you 're ruin
An' steady, Johnnie, steady-kip your head
down low.
poem by William Henry Drummond
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!