Chapter II: Part 2

Dat's true sure enough, you see curi's t'ing,
if you only leev leetle w'ile,
So long you got monee go all de place, for
mebbe t'ree t'ousan' mile,
But monee's not everyt'ing on dis worl', I tole
you dat, mes amis,
An' man can be ole lak' two honder year, an'
not see it, La Chasse Gal'rie.

I never forget de fine New Year night, nearly
seexty year ago,
W'en I'm lef' it our place for attend soiree,
on ole Maxime Baribault,
Nine mile away, I can see tin roof, on church
of de St. Joseph,
An' over de snow, de leaf dat die las' fall,
was chasin' itse'f.

Dere was some of de neighbor house I call,
dat's be de ole fashion style,
An' very nice style too, mes amis, I hope she
will las' long w'ile,
I shak' it de han', I drink sante, an' kiss it
de girl she's face,
So it's come ten o'clock, w'en I pass on road,
for visit Maxime hees place.

But I'm not go more mebbe t'ree arpent, w'en
de sky is get black all roun',
An' de win' she blow lak I never see, an'
de beeg snowstorm come down.
I mak' it my min' she's goin' be soon, de very
bad night for true,
Dat's locky I got plaintee whiskey lef', so I
tak' it wan leetle "coup."

Purty quick affer dat, I'm comin' nice place,
was stan'in' some fine beeg tree
W'ere de snow don't dreef', an' it seem jus'
lak dat place it is mak' for me,
So I pass it on dere, for mak' safe mese'f,
w'ile de storm is blow outside,
As if all de devil on hell below, was tak'
heem some fancy ride.

Wan red fox he's comin' so close, so close,
I could ketch him wit' de han',
But not on de tam lak dis ma frien', "Marche
toi all de quick you can,"
Poor feller he's tire an' seem los' hees way,
an' w'en he reach home dat night
Mebbe he fin' it all was close up, an' de door
it was fassen tight.

But w'at is dat soun' mak' de hair stan' up,
w'at is it mean, dat cry?
Comin' over de high tree top, out of de
nor'-wes' sky
Lak cry of de wil' goose w'en she pass on
de spring tam an' de fall,
But wil' goose fly on de winter night!
I never see dat at all.

On, on t'roo de night, she is quickly come,
more closer all de tam,
But not lak de cry of some wil' bird now,
don't seem it at all de sam';
An' den wit' de rush of de win', I hear
somebody sing chanson
An' de song dey sing is de ole, ole song,
"Le Canayen Errant."'

But it's mak' me lonesome an' scare also, jus'
sam' I be goin' for die
W'en I lissen dat song on night lak dis, so
far away on de sky,
Don't know w'at to do at all mese'f, so I go
w'ere I have good view,
An' up, up above t'roo de storm an' snow, she's
comin' wan beeg canoe.

Den somebody call it ma nam' out loud, firs' tam
it was scare me so,
"We know right away, dat was you be dere, hello
Phil-o-rum, hello!"
An' soon I see him dat feller spik, I 'member him
too mese'f,
We go de sam' school twenty year before, hees
nam's Telesphore Le Boeuf.

But I know on de way canoe she go, dat de crowd
he mus' be dead man
Was come from de Grande Riviere du Nord, come
from Saskatchewan,
Come too from all de place is lie on de Hodson
Bay Contree,
An' de t'ing I was see me dat New Year night,
is le phantome Chasse Gal'rie.

An' many de boy I was see him dere, I know him
so long before
He's goin' away on de far contree--for never
return no more--
An' now on phantome he is comin' home--t'roo
de storm an' de hurricane
For kiss him de girl on jour de l'an, an' see
de ole peep again.

De beeg voyageur w'at is steer canoe, wit'
paddle hol' on hees han'
Got very long hair was hang down hees neck,
de sam' as wil' Injin man
Invite me on boar' dat phantome canoe, for
show it dead man de way--
Don't lak it de job, but no use refuse,
so I'll mak' it de embarquer.

Den wan of de gang, he mus' be foreman, say
it's tam for have leetle drink,
So he pass heem black bottle for tak' un "coup,"
an' it's look lak ma own I t'ink,
But it can't be de sam', I'll be swear for dat,
for w'en I was mak' de go,
I fin' dere is not'ing inside but win', an'
de whiskey's phantome also.

Dey be laugh affer dat, lak dey tak' some fit,
so de boss spik him, "Tiens Phil-o-rum,
Never min' on dem feller--mus' have leetle sport,
dat's very long way we come,
Will you ketch it de paddle for steer us quick
on place of Maxime Baribault?"
An' he's ax me so nice, I do as he please',
an den away off she go.

Wan minute--two minute--we pass on dere,
Maxime he is all hooraw!
An' we know by musique dat was play inside,
mus' be de great Joe Violon,
Dat feller work fiddle on very bes' way,
dat nobody never see
Mak' de boy an' de girl, ole peep also,
dance lak dey was go crazee.

You s'pose dey was let me come on dat house?
Not at all, for de boss he say,
"Phil-o-rum, it's long tam we don't see our fren',
can't get heem chance ev'ry day,
Please stop on canoe so she won't blow off,
w'ile we pass on de house an' see
Dem frien' we was lef' an' de girl we spark,
before we go strange contree."

An' me I was sit on canoe outside, jus' lak
I was sapre fou,
Watchin' dem feller dat's all dead man,
dance heem lak Loup Garou.
De boss he kiss Marie Louise, ma girl,
dat's way he spen' mos' de tam,
But of course she know not'ing of dat
biz-nesse--don't lak it me jus' de sam'.

By tam I'm commence it for feel de col',
dey're all comin' out encore,
An' we start off again t'roo de sky, hooraw!
for mak' de visite some more,
All de place on de parish we go dat night,
w'erever dey get some dance,
Till I feel it so tire, I could sleep right off,
but dey don't geev it me no chance.

De las' place w'ere passin' dat's Bill Boucher,
he's very good frien' of me,
An' I t'ink it's near tam I was lef' dat crowd,
so I'll snub de canoe on tree,
Den affer dead man he was safe inside, an'
ev'rywan start danser,
I go on de barn wat's behin' de house, for
see I can't hide away.

She's nice place de barn, an' got plaintee warm,
an' I'm feel very glad be dere,
So long dead feller don't fin' me out, an' ketch
it me on de hair,
But s'pose I get col', work him hard all night,
'cos I make it wan leetle cough,
W'en de rooster he's scare, holler t'ree, four tam,
an' whole t'ing she bus' right off.

I'll never see not'ing so quick again--Canoe an'
dead man go scat!
She's locky de rooster he mak' de noise, bus'
ev'ryt'ing up lak dat,
Or mebbe dem feller get me encore, an' tak' me
on Hodson Bay,
But it's all right now, for de morning's come,
an' he see me ole Bill Boucher.

I'm feel it so tire, an' sore all de place, wit'
all de hard work I do',
'Cos I'm not very use for mak' paddle, me, on beeg,
beeg phantome canoe,
But Bill an' hees boy dey was leef me up, an'
carry me on maison
W'ere plaintee nice t'ing dey was mak' me eat,
an' drink it some whiskey blanc.

An' now w'en I'm finish, w'at you t'ink it youse'f,
'bout story dat you was hear?
No wonner ma hair she is all turn w'ite before I
get eighty year!
But 'member dis t'ing, I be tole you firs, don't
los' it mes chers amis,
De man he can leev him on long, long tam, an'
not see it La Chasse Gal'rie!

* * * * *

He sit on de corner mos' every night, ole
Phil-o-rum Juneau,
Spik wit' hese'f, an' shak' de head, an' smoke
on de pipe also,
But kip very quiet, don't wak' him up, let him
stay on de kitchen wall,
For if you believe w'at de ole man say, you
believe anyt'ing at all.

DE BELL OF ST. MICHEL.

Go 'way, go 'way, don't ring no more, ole bell of Saint Michel, For if you do, I can't stay here, you know dat very well, No matter how I close ma ear, I can't shut out de soun', It rise so high 'bove all de noise of dis beeg Yankee town.

An' w'en it ring, I t'ink I feel de cool, cool summer breeze Dat's blow across Lac Peezagonk, an' play among de trees, Dey're makin' hay, I know mese'f, can smell de pleasant smell O! how I wish I could be dere to-day on Saint Michel!

It's fonny t'ing, for me I'm sure, dat's travel ev'ryw'ere, How moche I t'ink of long ago w'en I be leevin' dere; I can't 'splain dat at all, at all, mebbe it's naturel, But I can't help it w'en I hear de bell of Saint Michel.

Dere's plaintee t'ing I don't forget, but I remember bes' De spot I fin' wan day on June de small san'piper's nes' An' dat hole on de reever w'ere I ketch de beeg, beeg trout Was very nearly pull me in before I pull heem out.

An' leetle Elodie Leclaire, I wonner if she still Leev jus' sam' place she use to leev on 'noder side de hill, But s'pose she marry Joe Barbeau, dat's alway hangin' roun' Since I am lef' ole Saint Michel for work on Yankee town.

Ah! dere she go, ding dong, ding dong, its back, encore again An' ole chanson come on ma head of "a la claire fontaine," I'm not surprise it soun' so sweet, more sweeter I can tell For wit' de song also I hear de bell of Saint Michel.

It's very strange about dat bell, go ding dong all de w'ile For when I'm small garcon at school, can't hear it half a mile; But seems more farder I get off from Church of Saint Michel, De more I see de ole village an' louder soun' de bell.

O! all de monee dat I mak' w'en I be travel roun' Can't kip me long away from home on dis beeg Yankee town, I t'ink I'll settle down again on Parish Saint Michel, An' leev an' die more satisfy so long I hear dat bell.

PELANG.

Pelang! Pelang! Mon cher garcon,
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 soiree 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' mariee 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 fete 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 couche
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 garcon,
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 fete 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 garcon!
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.

MON CHOUAL "CASTOR."

I'm poor man, me, but I buy las' May
Wan horse on de Comp'nie Passengaire,
An' auction feller w'at sole heem say
She's out of de full-breed "Messengaire."

Good trotter stock, also galluppe,
But work long tam on de city car,
Of course she's purty well break heem up,
So come leetle cheap--twenty-wan dollarre.

Firs' chance I sen' heem on St. Cesaire,
W'ere I t'ink he's have moche better sight,
Mebbe de grass an' de contree air
Very soon was feex heem up all right.

I lef' heem dere till de fall come 'long,
An' dat trotter he can't eat grass no more,
An' w'en I go dere, I fin' heem strong
Lak not'ing I never see before.

I heetch heem up on de light sulkee,
L'enfant! dat horse he is cover groun'!
Don't tak' long tam for de crowd to see
Mon choual he was leek all trotter roun'.

Come down de race course lak' oiseau
Tail over datch boar', nice you please,
Can't tell for sure de quick he go,
S'pose somew'ere 'bout two, t'ree forties.

I treat ma frien' on de whiskey blanc,
An' we drink "Castor" he's bonne sante
From L'Achigan to St. Armand,
He's bes' horse sure on de whole comte.

* * * * *

'Bout week on front of dis, Lalime,
Dat man drive horse call "Clevelan' Bay"
Was challenge, so I match wit' heem
For wan mile heat on straight away.

Dat's twenty dollarre on wan side,
De lawyer's draw de paper out,
But if dem trotter come in tied,
Wall! all dat monee's go on spout.

Nex' t'ing ma backer man, Labrie,
Tak' off his catch-book vingt cinq cents,
An' toss Lalime bes' two on t'ree
For see who's go on inside fence.

Bateese Lalime, he's purty smart,
An' gain dat toss wit' jockey trick.
I don't care me, w'en "Castor" start,
Very soon I t'ink he's mak' heem sick.

Beeg crowd of course was dere for see
Dem trotter on de grand match race
Some people come from St. Remi
An' some from plaintee 'noder place.

W'en all is ready, flag was fall
An' way dem trotter pass on fence
Lak not'ing you never see at all,
It mak' me t'ink of "St. Lawrence."[1]

"Castor," hees tail was stan' so straight
Could place chapeau on de en' of top
An' w'en he struck two forty gait
Don't seem he's never go for stop.

Wall! dat's all right for firs' half mile
W'en Clevelan' Bay commence for break,
Dat mak' me feel very moche lak smile,
I'm sure "Castor" he's took de cake.

But Lalime pull heem hard on line
An' stop "Clevelan'" before go far,
It's all no good, he can't ketch mine
I'm go more quicker lak express car.

I'm feel all right for my monee,
For sure mon Choual he's took firs' place,
W'en 'bout arpent from home, sapre,
Somet'ing she's happen, I'm los' de race.

Wan bad boy he's come out on track,
I cannot see dat bad boy's han';
He's hol' somet'ing behin' hees back,
It was small bell, I understan'.

Can spik for dat, ma horse go well,
An' never show no sign of sweat,
Until dat boy he's ring hees bell--
Misere! I t'ink I hear heem yet!

Wall! jus' so soon mon Choual "Castor"
Was hear dat bell go kling! klang! kling!
He's tink of course of city car,
An' spose mus' be conductor ring.

Firs' t'ing I know ma trotter's drop
Dat tail was stan' so straight before,
An' affer dat, mebbe he stop
For me, I don't know not'ing more.

But w'en I'm come alive again
I fin' dat horse call "Clevelan' Bay"
Was got firs' place, an' so he's gain
Dat wan mile heat on straight away.

An' now w'erever I am go
Bad boy he's sure for holler an' yell
Dis donc! Dis donc! Paul Archambault!
W'at's matter wit' your chestnutte bell?

Mak' plaintee troub' dem bad garcons,
An' offen ring some bell also,
Was mad! Could plonge on de St. Laurent
An' w'at to do, "Castor" don't know.

Las' tam I pass de railway track
For drive avec mon frere Alfred,
In-jinne she's ring, "Castor" he's back,
Monjee! it's fonny I'm not come dead!

Toujours comme ca! an' mak' me sick,
But horse dat work long on les chars
Can't broke dem off on fancy trick
So now I'm busy for sole "Castor."

[Footnote 1: "St. Lawrence," the Canadian "Dexter."]

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 Lagasse,
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 Boule" 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 Lagasse 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 Lagasse.

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!

THE GRAND SEIGNEUR.

To the hut of the peasant, or lordly hall, To the heart of the king, or humblest thrall, Sooner or late, love comes to all, And it came to the Grand Seigneur, my dear, It came to the Grand Seigneur.

The robins were singing a roundelay, And the air was sweet with the breath of May, As a horseman rode thro' the forest way, And he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear, He was a grand Seigneur.

Lord of the Manor, Count Bellefontaine, Had spurr'd over many a stormy plain With gallants of France at his bridle rein, For he was a brave Cavalier, my dear-- He was a brave Cavalier.

But the huntsman's daughter, La Belle Marie, Held the Knight's proud heart in captivity, And oh! she was fair as the fleur de lys, Tho' only a peasant maid, my dear, Only a peasant maid.

Thro' the woodland depths on his charger grey To the huntsman's cottage he rides away, And the maiden lists to a tale to-day That haughtiest dame might hear, my dear, That haughtiest dame might hear.

But she cried "Alas! it may never be, For my heart is pledged to the young Louis, And I love him, O Sire, so tenderly, Tho' he's only a poor Chasseur, my Lord, Only a poor Chasseur."

"Enough," spake the Knight with a courtly bow, "Be true to thy lover and maiden vow, For virtue like thine is but rare, I trow, And farewell to my dream of love, and thee, Farewell to my dream of thee."

And they say the gallant Count Bellefontaine Bestowed on the couple a rich domain, But you never may hear such tale again, For he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear, He was a Grand Seigneur!

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' Phileas 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 Francais, 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' Phileas 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' Francais,
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--Sapre!
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 sante.

W'en I tell 'Poleon he mus' mak' dat job,
Dere's leetle too moche for canoe d'ecorce,
He's mad right away an' say "Sapre diable!
You t'ink I go work lak wan niggerhorse?

"I'm not manufacture dat way, ba non,
Dat rich stranger man he have lot monee,
I go see my frien' Onesime Gourdon,
An' tole heem bring horse wit' some more buggee."

Wall! affer some w'ile dey'll arrange all dat,
'Poleon an' hees frien' Onesime 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."

Phileas 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' Onesime Gourdon,
An' Onesime 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."

Phileas 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--Phileas 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 Phileas 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 biere.

Nex' day--dat's Dimanche--he is spik to me,
"Damase, you mus' feel leetle fatigue,
You may slep' wit' Phileas 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! Phileas!! 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.

Phileas 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.

WHEN ALBANI SANG.

Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan
morning not long ago,
Feexin' de fence for winter--'cos dat's
w'ere we got de snow!
W'en Jeremie Plouffe, ma neighbor, come
over an' spik wit' me,
"Antoine, you will come on de city,
for hear Ma-dam All-ba-nee?"

"W'at you mean?" I was sayin' right off, me,
"Some woman was mak' de speech,
Or girl on de Hooraw Circus, doin' high
kick an' screech?"
"Non--non," he is spikin'--"Excuse me,
dat's be Ma-dam All-ba-nee
Was leevin' down here on de contree, two
mile 'noder side Chambly.

"She's jus' comin' over from Englan', on
steamboat arrive Kebeck,
Singin' on Lunnon an' Paree, an' havin'
beeg tam, I expec',
But no matter de moche she enjoy it, for
travel all roun' de worl',
Somet'ing on de heart bring her back here,
for she was de Chambly girl.

"She never do not'ing but singin' an' makin'
de beeg grande tour
An' travel on summer an' winter, so mus' be
de firs' class for sure!
Ev'ryboddy I'm t'inkin' was know her, an' I
also hear 'noder t'ing,
She's frien' on La Reine Victoria an' show
her de way to sing!"

"Wall," I say, "you're sure she is Chambly,
w'at you call Ma-dam All-ba-nee?
Don't know me dat nam' on de Canton--I hope
you're not fool wit' me?"
An' he say, "Lajeunesse, dey was call her,
before she is come mariee,
But she's takin' de nam' of her husban'--I
s'pose dat's de only way."

"C'est bon, mon ami," I was say me, "If I get
t'roo de fence nex' day
An' she don't want too moche on de monee den
mebbe I see her play."
So I finish dat job on to-morrow, Jeremie he
was helpin' me too,
An' I say, "Len' me t'ree dollar quickly for
mak' de voyage wit' you."

Correc'--so we're startin' nex' morning, an'
arrive Montreal all right,
Buy dollar tiquette on de bureau, an' pass on
de hall dat night.
Beeg crowd, wall! I bet you was dere too, all
dress on some fancy dress,
De lady, I don't say not'ing, but man's all
w'ite shirt an' no ves'.

Don't matter, w'en ban' dey be ready, de foreman
strek out wit' hees steek,
An' fiddle an' ev'ryt'ing else too, begin for
play up de musique.
It's fonny t'ing too dey was playin' don't lak
it mese'f at all,
I rader be lissen some jeeg, me, or w'at you call
"Affer de ball."

An' I'm not feelin' very surprise den, w'en de
crowd holler out, "Encore,"
For mak' all dem feller commencin' an' try leetle
piece some more,
'Twas better wan' too, I be t'inkin', but slow
lak you're goin' to die,
All de sam', noboddy say not'ing, dat mean
dey was satisfy.

Affer dat come de Grande piano, lak we got on
Chambly Hotel,
She's nice lookin' girl was play dat, so of
course she's go off purty well,
Den feller he's ronne out an' sing some, it's
all about very fine moon,
Dat shine on Canal, ev'ry night too, I'm sorry
I don't know de tune.

Nex' t'ing I commence get excite, me, for I
don't see no great Ma-dam yet,
Too bad I was los all dat monee, an' too late
for de raffle tiquette!
W'en jus' as I feel very sorry, for come all
de way from Chambly,
Jeremie he was w'isper, "Tiens, Tiens, prenez
garde, she's comin' Ma-dam All-ba-nee!"

Ev'ryboddy seem glad w'en dey see her, come
walkin' right down de platform,
An' way dey mak' noise on de han' den, w'y!
it's jus' lak de beeg tonder storm!
I'll never see not'ing lak dat, me, no matter
I travel de worl',
An' Ma-dam, you t'ink it was scare her? Non,
she laugh lak de Chambly girl!

Dere was young feller comin' behin' her, walk
nice, comme un Cavalier,
An' before All-ba-nee she is ready an' piano
get startin' for play,
De feller commence wit' hees singin', more
stronger dan all de res',
I t'ink he's got very bad manner, know not'ing
at all politesse.

Ma-dam, I s'pose she get mad den, an' before
anyboddy can spik,
She settle right down for mak' sing too, an'
purty soon ketch heem up quick,
Den she's kip it on gainin' an' gainin', till
de song it is tout finis,
An' w'en she is beatin' dat feller, Bagosh!
I am proud Chambly!

I'm not very sorry at all, me, w'en de feller
was ronnin' away,
An' man he's come out wit' de piccolo, an'
start heem right off for play,
For it's kin' de musique I be fancy, Jeremie
he is lak it also,
An' wan de bes' t'ing on dat ev'ning is man
wit' de piccolo!

Den mebbe ten minute is passin', Ma-dam she is
comin' encore,
Dis tam all alone on de platform, dat feller
don't show up no more,
An' w'en she start off on de singin' Jeremie say,
"Antoine, dat's Francais,"
Dis give us more pleasure, I tole you, 'cos w'y?
We're de pure Canayen!

Dat song I will never forget me, 'twas song of
de leetle bird,
W'en he's fly from it's nes' on de tree top,
'fore res' of de worl' get stirred,
Ma-dam she was tole us about it, den start off
so quiet an' low,
An' sing lak de bird on de morning, de poor
leetle small oiseau.

I 'member wan tam I be sleepin' jus' onder some
beeg pine tree
An song of de robin wak' me, but robin he
don't see me,
Dere's not'ing for scarin' dat bird dere, he's
feel all alone on de worl',
Wall! Ma-dam she mus' lissen lak dat too, w'en
she was de Chambly girl!

Cos how could she sing dat nice chanson, de sam'
as de bird I was hear,
Till I see it de maple an' pine tree an' Richelieu
ronnin' near,
Again I'm de leetle feller, lak young colt upon
de spring
Dat's jus' on de way I was feel, me, w'en Ma-dam
All-ba-nee is sing!

An' affer de song it is finish, an' crowd is mak'
noise wit' its han',
I s'pose dey be t'inkin' I'm crazy, dat mebbe
I don't onderstan',
Cos I'm set on de chair very quiet, mese'f an'
poor Jeremie,
An' I see dat hees eye it was cry too, jus' sam'
way it go wit' me.

Dere's rosebush outside on our garden, ev'ry spring
it has got new nes',
But only wan bluebird is buil' dere, I know her
from all de res',
An' no matter de far she be flyin' away on
de winter tam,
Back to her own leetle rosebush she's comin
dere jus' de sam'.

We're not de beeg place on our Canton, mebbe
cole on de winter, too,
But de heart's "Canayen" on our body, an'
dat's warm enough for true!
An' w'en All-ba-nee was got lonesome for
travel all roun' de worl'
I hope she 'll come home, lak de bluebird,
an' again be de Chambly girl!

DE CAMP ON DE "CHEVAL GRIS."

You 'member de ole log-camp, Johnnie, up on de Cheval Gris, W'ere we work so hard all winter, long ago you an' me? Dere was fourteen man on de gang, den, all from our own paroisse, An' only wan lef' dem feller is ourse'f an' Pierre Laframboise.

But Pierre can't see on de eye, Johnnie, I t'ink it's no good at all! An' it wasn't for not'ing, you're gettin' rheumateez on de leg las' fall! I t'ink it's no use waitin', for neider can come wit' me, So alone I mak' leetle visit dat camp on de Cheval Gris.

An' if only you see it, Johnnie, an' change dere was all aroun', Ev'ryt'ing gone but de timber an' dat is all fallin' down; No sign of portage by de reever w'ere man dey was place canoe, W'y, Johnnie, I'm cry lak de bebe, an' I'm glad you don't come, mon vieux!

But strange t'ing's happen me dere, Johnnie, mebbe I go asleep, As I lissen de song of de rapide, as pas' de Longue Soo she sweep, Ma head she go biz-z-z lak de sawmeel, I don't know w'at's wrong wit' me, But firs' t'ing I don't know not'ing, an' den w'at you t'ink I see?

Yourse'f an' res' of de boy, Johnnie, by light of de coal oil lamp, An' you're singin' an' tolin' story, sittin' aroun' de camp, We hear de win' on de chimley, an' we know it was beeg, beeg storm, But ole box stove she is roarin', an' camp's feelin' nice an' warm.

I t'ink you're on boar' of de raf', Johnnie, near head of Riviere du Loup, W'en LeRoy an' young Patsy Kelly get drown comin' down de Soo, Wall! I see me dem very same feller, jus' lak you see me to-day, Playin' dat game dey call checker, de game dey was play alway!

An' Louis Charette asleep, Johnnie, wit' hees back up agen de wall, Makin' soche noise wit' hees nose, dat you t'ink it was moose on de fall, I s'pose he's de mos' fattes' man dere 'cept mebbe Bateese La Rue, But if I mak fonne on poor Louis, I know he was good boy too!

W'at you do over dere on your bunk, Johnnie, lightin' dem allumettes, Are you shame 'cos de girl she write you, is dat de las' wan you get? It's fonny you can't do widout it ev'ry tam you was goin' bed, W'y readin' dat letter so offen, you mus have it all on de head!

Dat's de very sam' letter, Johnnie, was comin' t'ree mont' ago, I t'ink I know somet'ing about it, 'cos I fin' it wan day on de snow. An' I see on de foot dat letter, Philomene she is do lak dis: * * * I'm not very moche on de school, me, but I t'ink dat was mean de kiss.

Wall! nobody's kickin' de row, Johnnie, an' if allumettes' fini, Put Philomene off on your pocket, an' sing leetle song wit' me; For don't matter de hard you be workin' toujours you're un bon garcon, An' nobody sing lak our Johnnie, Kebeck to de Mattawa!

An' it's den you be let her go, Johnnie, till roof she was mos' cave in, An' if dere's firs' prize on de singin', Bagosh! you're de man can win! Affer dat come fidelle of Joe Pilon, an' he's feller can make it play, So we're clearin' de floor right off den, for have leetle small danser.

An' w'en dance she was tout finis, Johnnie, I go de sam' bunk wit' you W'ere we sleep lak two broder, an' dream of de girl on Riviere du Loup, Very nice ontil somebody call me, it soun' lak de boss Pelang, "Leve toi, Jeremie ma young feller, or else you'll be late on de gang."

An' den I am wak' up, Johnnie, an' w'ere do you t'ink I be? Dere was de wood an' mountain, dere was de Cheval Gris, But w'ere is de boy an' musique I hear only w'ile ago? Gone lak de flower las' summer, gone lak de winter snow!

An' de young man was bring me up, Johnnie, dat's son of ma boy Maxime, Say, "Gran'fader, w'at is de matter, you havin' de bad, bad dream? Come look on your face on de well dere, it's w'ite lak I never see, Mebbe 't was better you're stayin', an' not go along wit' me."

An' w'en I look down de well, Johnnie, an' see de ole feller dere, I say on mese'f "you be makin' fou Jeremie Chateauvert, For t'ink you're garcon agen. Ha! ha! jus' 'cos you are close de eye, An' only commence for leevin' w'en you're ready almos' for die!"

Ah! dat's how de young day pass, Johnnie, purty moche lak de t'ing I see, Sometam dey be las' leetle longer, sam' as wit' you an' me, But no matter de ole we're leevin', de tam she must come some day, W'en boss on de place above, Johnnie, he's callin' us all away.

I'm glad I was go on de camp, Johnnie, I t'ink it will do me good, Mebbe it's las' tam too, for sure, I'll never pass on de wood, For I don't expec' moche longer ole Jeremie will be lef', But about w'at I see dat day, Johnnie, tole nobody but yourse'f.

DE STOVE PIPE HOLE.

Dat's very cole an' stormy night on Village St. Mathieu, W'en ev'ry wan he's go couche, 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 'Sapre!' 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 "Sapre 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 couche right off, an' dey go on parloir.

Nex' Sunday morning dey was call by M'sieur le Cure 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.

"DE SNOWBIRD."