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The Windigo

Go easy wit' de paddle, an' steady wit' de     oar  Geev rudder to de bes' man  you got among     de crew,

Let ev'ry wan be quiet, don't let dem sing no     more  W'en you see de islan' risin' out of Grande     Lac

Above us on de sky dere, de summer cloud     may float  Aroun' us on de water de ripple never show,

But somet'ing down below us can rock de     stronges' boat,  W'en we 're comin' near de islan' of de     spirit Windigo!

De carcajou may breed dere,  an' otter sweem     de poole  De moosh-rat mak' de mud house, an' beaver     buil' hees

An' beeges' Injun hunter on all de Tête de     Boule  Will never set hees trap dere from spring     to summer tam.

But he 'll  bring de fines' presen' from upper     St.

Maurice  De loup marin an' black-fox from off de     Hodson

An' hide dem on de islan' an' smoke de pipe     of peace  So Windigo will help heem w'en he travel     far away.

We shaintee on dat islan' on de winter seexty-     nine  If you look you see de clearin' aroun' de     Coo Coo Cache,

An' pleasan' place enough too among de spruce     an' pine  If foreman on de shaintee is  n't Cyprien     Palache.

Beeg feller, alway watchin' on hees leetle     weasel eye,  De gang dey can't do not'ing but he see dem     purty

Wit' hees "Hi dere, w'at you doin' ?" ev'ry     tam he 's passin' by  An' de bad word he was usin' , wall! it offen     mak' me sick.

An' he carry silver w'issle wit' de chain aroun'     hees neck  For fear he mebbe los' it, an' ev'ry body say     He mus' buy it from de devil w'en he 's     passin' on Kebeck  But if it 's true dat story,

I dunno how     moche he pay.

Dere 's plaintee on de shaintee can sing lak     rossignol  Pet Clancy play de fiddle, an' Jimmie Char-

Was bring hees concertina from below St.     Fereol  So we get some leetle pleasure till de long,     long winter go.

But if we start up singin' affer supper on de     camp  "Par derriere chez ma tante," or "Mattawa     wishtay,"De boss he 'll come along den, an' put heem      out de lamp,  An' only stop hees swearin' w'en we all go     marche coucher.

We 've leetle boy dat winter from Po-po-lo-be-     lang  Hees fader an' hees moder dey're bote

An' he 's comin' ,

Injun Johnnie, wit' some     man de lumber gang  Was fin' heem nearly starvin' above on Lac     Souris.

De ole man an' de woman is tryin' pass de Soo  W'en water 's high on spring tam, an' of      course dey 're gettin' drown',

For even smartes' Injun should n't fool wit'     birch canoe,  W'ere de reever lak toboggan on de hill is     runnin' down.

So dey lef' de leetle feller all alone away up     dere  Till lumber gang is ketchin' him an' bring     him on de Cache,

But better if he 's stayin' wit' de wolf an' wit'     de bear  Dan come an' tak' hees chances wit' Cyprien     Palache.

I wonder how he stan' it, w'y he never run     away  For Cyprien lak neeger he is treat heem all     de sam'An' if he 's wantin' Johnnie on de night or on     de day  God help heem if dat w'issle she was below     de secon'tam!

De boy he don 't say not'ing, no wan never see     heem cry  He 's got de Injun in heem, you can see it     on de face,

An' only for us feller an' de cook, he 'll surely     die  Long before de winter 's over, long before     we lef' de place,

But I see heem hidin' somet'ing wan morning     by de shore  So firse tam I was passin' I scrape away de

An' it 's rabbit skin he 's ketchin' on de swamp     de day before,  Leetle Injun Johnnie 's workin' on de spirit      Windigo.

December's come in stormy, an' de snow-dreef     fill de road  Can only see de chimley an' roof of our     cabane,

An' stronges' team on stable fin' it plaintee     heavy load  Haulin' sleigh an' two t'ree pine log t'roo     de wood an' beeg savane.

An' I travel off wan day me, wit' Cyprien     Palache  Explorin' for new timber, w'en de win' be-     gin to blow,

So we hurry on de snow-shoe for de camp on     Coo Coo Cache  If de nor' eas' storm is comin', was de bes'     place we dunno-An' we 're gettin' safe enough dere wit' de     storm close on our heel,  But w'en our belt we loosen for takin' off de

De foreman commence screamin' an' mon Dieu     it mak' us feel  Lak he got t'ree t'ousan' devil all fightin' on     hees t'roat.

Cyprien is los' hees w'issle,

Cyprien is los' hees     chain  Injun Johnnie he mus' fin' it, even if de win'     is

He can never show hese'f on de Coo Coo     Cache again  Till he bring dat silver w'issle an' de chain     it 's hangin' by.

So he sen' heem on hees journey never knowin'     he come back  T'roo de rough an' stormy wedder, t'roo de     pile of dreefin' snow"Wat 's de use of bein' Injun if you can 't     smell out de track?"  Dat 's de way de boss is talkin' , an' poor     Johnnie have to go.

If you want to hear de musique of de nort' win'     as it blow  An' lissen to the hurricane an' learn de way     it

An' feel how small de man is w'en he 's     leevin' here below,  You should try it on de shaintee w'en she 's     doin' all dem t'ing!

W'at 's dat soun' lak somet'ing cryin' all     aroun' us ev'ryw'ere?  We never hear no tonder upon de winter     storm!

Dey 're shoutin' to each oder dem voices on     de air,  An' it 's red hot too de stove pipe, but no     wan 's feelin' warm!"Get out an' go de woodpile before I freeze     to deat'"  Cyprien de boss is yellin' an' he 's lookin'     cole an'

Lak dead man on de coffin, but no wan go,     you bet,  For if it 's near de woodpile, 't is n't close     enough to-night!

Non! we ain't afraid of not'ing, but we don 't     lak takin' chance,  An' w'en we hear de spirit of de wil' A-ben-

Singin' war song on de chimley, makin' all dem     Injun dance  Raisin' row dere, you don't ketch us on no     woodpile -no siree!

O! de lonesome night we 're passin' w'ile     we 're stayin' on dat place!  An' ev'rybody sheever when Jimmie Char

Say he 's watchin' on de winder an' he see de     Injun face  An' it 's lookin' so he tole us, jus' de sam'     as Windingo.

Den again mese'f I 'm hearin' somet'ing     callin', an' it soun'  Lak de voice of leetle Johnnie so I'm     passin' on de

But de pine stump on de clearin' wit' de w'ite     sheet all aroun'  Mak' me t'ink of churchyar' tombstone, an'     I can't go dere no more.

Wat's de reason we 're so quiet w'ile our     heart she 's goin' fas'  W'y is no wan ax de question?  dat we're     all afraid to spik?

Was it wing of flyin' wil' bird strek de winder     as it pass,  Or de sweesh of leetle snow-ball w'en de win'     is playin' trick?

W'en we buil' de Coo Coo shaintee, she's as     steady as a rock,  Did you feel de shaintee shakin' de sam,     she's goin' to fall?

Dere's somet'ing on de doorway! an' now we     hear de knock  An' up above de hurricane we hear de w'issle     call.

Callin', callin' lak a bugle, an' he's jompin' up     de boss  From hees warm bed on de corner an' open     wide de door—Dere's no use foller affer for Cyprien is los'  An' de Coo Coo Cache an' shaintee he'll     never see no more.

At las' de morning's comin', an' storm is blow     away  An' outside on de shaintee young Jimmie

He's seein' track of snowshoe, 'bout de size of     doulbe sleigh  Dere's no mistak' it's makin' by de spirit     Windigo.

An' de leetle Injuin Johnie, he's all right I     onderstan'  For you'll fin' heem up de reever above de     Coo Coo

Ketchin' mink and ketchin' beaver, an' he's     growin' great beeg man  But dat's de las' we're hearin' of Cyprien     Palache.

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William Henry Drummond

William Henry Drummond (April 13, 1854 – April 6, 1907) was an Irish-born Canadian poet whose humorous dialect poems made him "one of the most p…

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