Chapter III: Part 3

"Geev' me dat bell a-ringin'
For not'ing at all, mon père;
Can't sleep at night, w'en de moon is bright,
For noise she was makin' dere.
I'm sure she was never chrissen,
An' we want no heretic bell;
W'ere is de book? For you mus' look
An' see if I chrissen it well!"

Leevin' heem broken-hearted,
For Fader Jerome is done,
He sail away wit' de bell dat day,
Capitaine Malcouronne;
An' down w'ere dead man 's lyin',
Down on de ocean deep,
He sink it dere, w'ile he curse an' swear,
An' tole it to go to sleep.

An' t'ree more year is passin',
An' now it 's a winter night:
Poor Salvador, so bles' before,
Is sittin' among de fight
Of breaker, an' sea-bird yellin',
An' noise of a tousan' gun,
W'en troo de fog, lak a dreefin' log,
Come Capitaine Malcouronne!

Gropin' along de sea dere,
Wonderin' w'ere he be,
Prayin' out loud, before all de crowd
Of sailor man on hees knee;
Callin' upon de devil,
"Help! or I 'm gone!" he shout;
"Dat bell it go to you down below,
So now you can ring me out

"To de open sea, an' affer
I promise you w'at I do,
Yass, ev'ry day I 'll alway pray
To you, an' to only you--
Kip me in here no longer,
Or de shore I won't see again!"
T'ink of de prayer he 's makin' dere,
Dat wicked ole capitaine!

An' bell it commence a-ringin',
Quiet at firse, an' den
Lak tonder crash, de ship go smash,
An' w'ere is de capitaine?
An' de bell kip ringin', ringin',
Drownin' de breakers' roar,
An' dere she lie, w'ile de sea-birds cry,
On de rock of Salvador.

The Rivière des Prairies

I see de many reever on de State an' ev'ryw'ere,
From Maine to California, New York to Michigan,
An' wan way an' de oder, I tell you I don't care;
I travel far upon dem as moche as any man--
But all de t'ousan' reever I was never pass along,
For w'at dey call de beauty, from de mountain to de sea,
Dere 's wan dat I be t'inkin,' de wan w'ere I belong,
Can beat dem all, an' easy, too, de Rivière des Prairies!

Jus' tak' de Hudson Reever, an' de Mississippi too,
Missouri, an' de res' of dem, an' oders I can't t'ink,
Dey 're all beeg, dirty places, wit' de steamboat gruntin' troo,
An' de water runnin' in dem is black as any ink,
An' de noises of dem reever never stoppin' night or day,
An' de row along de shore, too, enough to mak' you scare;
Not a feesh is wort' de eatin', 'less you 're starvin by de way,
An' you 're feeling purty t'orsty if you drink de water dere!

So ketch de han' I geev' you w'ile I 'm on de humor now,
An' I bet you won't be sorry w'en you go along wit' me,
For I show you all aroun' dere, until you 're knowin' how
I come so moche to brag--me--on de Rivière des Prairies.
It 's a cole October mornin', an' de maple leaf is change
Ev'ry color you can t'ink of, from de purple to de green;
On de shore de crowd of blackbird, an' de crow begin' arrange
For de journey dey be takin' w'en de nort' win's blowin' keen.

Quick! down among de bushes!--don't you hear de wil' goose cry
An' de honk de great beeg gander he was makin' up above?
On de lake dey call Two Mountain is de place dey 're goin' fly,
But only spen' de night-tam, for dey 're alway on de move;
Jus' see de shadder dancin' up an' down, up an' down,
You t'ink dem geese was passin' in an' out between de tree
W'en de branch is bendin' over on de water all aroun'
Now you see de place I 'm talkin', dat 's de Rivière des Prairies!

Missouri! Mississippi! better wait till you go back--
No tam for talk about dem w'en dis reever you can see,
But watch de cloud a-sailin' lak a racer on de track,
An' lissen to de music of de Rivière des Prairies--
An' up along de shore dere, don't you envy Bord à Plouffe?
Oh! dat's de place is lucky, have de reever come so near--
I 'm knowin' all de people, ev'ry chimley, ev'ry roof,
For Bord à Plouffe she never change on over feefty year!

St. Martin's bell is ringin', can't you hear it easy now?
Dey 're marryin' or buryin' some good ole frien' of me,
I wonder who it can be, don't matter anyhow,
So long as we 're a-lookin' on de Rivière des Prairies.
Only notice how de sun shine w'en he's comin' out to peep,
I 'm sure he 's leetle brighter dan anyw'ere you see,
An' w'en de fall is over, an' de reever 's gone to sleep,
De w'ites' snow is fallin' on de Rivière des Prairies!

I love you, dear ole reever, more dan ev'ry Yankee wan;
An' if I get de money, you will see me on de train,
Wit' couple o' t'ousan' dollar, den hooraw! it 's goodbye, John!
You can kill me if you ketch me leavin' Bord à Plouffe again.
But sometam it 'll happen dat a feller 's gettin' stop
Because he's comin' busy wit' de wife an' familee--
No matter, if de good God he won't forget to drop,
Ev'ry day an' night, hees blessin' on de Rivière des Prairies!

The Wind that Lifts the Fog

Over de sea de schooner boat
_Star of de Sout'_ is all afloat,
Many a fine brave feesherman
Sailin' away for Newfunlan';
Ev'ry feller from St. Malo,
Dem is de boy can mak' her go!
Tearin' along t'roo storm or gale,
Never sparin' an inch of sail--

Down below w'en de night is come,
Out wit' de bottle an' t'ink of home,
Push it aroun' till bottle 's drain,
An' drink no more till we 're home again,
"Here 's to de win' dat lif' de fog,
No matter how she 's blowin',
Nort' or sout', eas' or wes',
Dat is de win' we love de bes',
Ev'ry sailor an' young sea dog,
Here 's to de win' dat lif' de fog
An' set de ship a-goin'."

Flyin' over de wave she go,
_Star of de Sout'_ from St. Malo,
Never a tack, before she ran
Out on de bank of Newfunlan'--
Drop de anchor, an' let her down,
Plaintee of comrade all aroun',
Feeshin' away till night is fall,
Singin' away wit' ev'ry haul,
"Here 's to de win' dat lif' de fog,
No matter how she 's blowin',
Nort' or sout', eas' or wes',
Dat is de win' we love de bes',
Ev'ry sailor an' young sea dog,
Here 's to de win' dat lif' de fog
An' set de ship a-goin'."

* * * *

_Star of de Sout'_--did you see de light
Steamin' along dat foggy night?
Poor leetle bird! anoder star
Shinin' above so high an' far
Dazzle you den, an' blin' de eye,
Wile down below on de sea you lie
Anchor dere--wit' your broken wing
How could you fly w'en de sailor sing
"Here 's to de win' dat lif' de fog
No matter how she 's blowin',
Nort' or sout', eas' or wes',
Dat is de win' we love de bes',
Ev'ry sailor an' young sea dog,
Here 's to de win' dat lif' de fog
An' set de ship a-goin'"?

The Fox Hunt

I'm all bus' up, for a mont' or two,
On account of de wife I got,
Wit' de fuss an' troublesome t'ing she do,
She 's makin' me sick a lot;
An' I 'm sorry dat woman was go to school
For larnin' de way to read,
Her fader an' moder is great beeg fool
For geevin' her more she need!

'Cos now it 's a paper ev'ry week,
Dollar a year, no less--
Plaintee o' talkin' about musique,
An' tell you de way to dress;
Of course dat 's makin' her try to sing
An' dress, till it 's easy see
She 's goin' crazy about de t'ing
Dey 're callin'--Societee.

Las' week, no sooner I come along
From market of Bonsecour,
Dan I 'm seein' right off, dere 's somet'ing wrong,
For she 's stannin' outside de door
Smilin' so sweetly upon de face,
Lookin' so nice an' gay--
Anywan t'ink it 's purty sure case
She marry me yesterday.

Can't wait a minute till supper's t'roo
Before she commence to go--
"Oh! Johnnie, dere 's somet'ing I mus' tole you--
Somet'ing you lak to know--
To-morrow we 're goin' for drive aroun'
An' it won't be de heavy load,
Jus' me an' you, for to see dem houn'
T'row off on de Bord à Plouffe road."

"Denise, if dat was de grande affaire
On w'at you call à la mode--
Lookin' dem fox dog stannin' dere
T'row off on de Bord à Plouffe road,
You can count me out!" An' she start to cry--
"You know very well," she say,
"I don't mean dat--may I never die
But you 're a beeg fool to-day!

"Johnnie, to-morrow you 'll come wit' me
Watchin' dem run de race,
Ketchin' de fox--if you don't, you see
We 're bote on de beeg disgrace.
Dey 're all comin' out from de reever side,
An' over from Beaurepaire,
Seein' de folk from de city ride,
An' ev'rywan 's sure be dere."

All right--an' to-morrow dere's two new shoe,
So de leetle horse mak' de show,
Out wit' de buggy: de new wan too,
Only get her ten year ago--
An' dere on de road, you should see de gang
Of folk from aroun' de place,
Billy Dufresne, an' ole Champagne,
Comin' to see de race,

Wit' plaintee of stranger I never see,
An' some of dem from Pointe Claire,
All of dem bringin' de familee,
W'enever dere 's room to spare.
Wonderful sight--I 'm sure you say--
To see how Societee
(W'atever dat mean?) she got de way
Of foolin' de w'ole contree.

Den I 'm heetchin' de horse on de fence, for fear
Somebody run away,
So man wit' de bugle he 's comin' near,
An' dis is de t'ing he say--
"You see any fox to-day, ma frien',
Runnin' aroun' at all,
You know any place he got hees den?
For we lak it to mak' de call."

An' me--I tell heem, "You mus' be wrong,
An' surely don't want to kill
De leetle red fox, about two foot long,
Dat 's leevin' below de hill;
Jompin' de horse till he break hees knee,
Wile spotty dog mak' de row,
For a five-dollar fox? You can't fool me--
I know w'at you 're wantin' now!

"You hear de story of ole Belair,
He 's seein' de silver fox
W'enever he 's feeshin' de reever dere,
Sneakin' along de rocks."
But ma wife get madder I never see,
An' say, "Wall! you _mus'_ be green--
Shut up right away," she 's tellin' me,
"It 's de leetle red fox he mean!"

So me--I say not'ing, but watch de fun---
An' spotty dog smell aroun'
Till dey start to yell, an' quick as a gun
Ev'rywan 's yellin', "Foun'!"
An' de way dey 're goin' across de fiel',
De lady in front, before,
Dunno, but I 'm willin' to bet good deal
Somebody mus' be sore!

Over de fence dey 're jompin' now,
Too busy for see de gate
Stannin' wide open, an' den dey plough
Along at a terrible rate;
All for de small red fox, dey say,
Only de leetle fox,
You 're buyin' for five dollar any day,
An' put heem on two-foot box.

I 'm foolish enough, but not lak dat--
Never lak dat at all,
Sam' as you see a crazy cat
Tryin' to climb de wall;
So I say to ma wife, I 'm satisfy
On ev'ryt'ing I was see,
But happy an' glad, until I die,
I 'm not on Societee!

Losin' a day on de fall 's no joke,
Dat 's w'at I 'm tellin' you,
Jus' for de pleasure of see dem folk
Dress up on de howdy do;
So I 'm sorry you go to school,
Larnin' de readin' dere--
Could do it mese'f, an' play de fool,
If money I got to spare.

But potatoes a dollar a bag,
An' easy to sell de load,
Watchin' de houn' to see heem wag
Hees tail, on de Bord à Plouffe road
Foolin' away w'en de market 's good
For seein' Societee
Chasin' de leetle fox t'roo de wood
Wit' crazy folk!--no siree!