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 ho...
AL'
LL —Donal' Bane—sailed away across the
With the tartans of Clan Gordon, to the Indies' distant shore,
But on Dargai's lonely hill- side,
I know very well t'was purty hard
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger
Dan village of Cote St
Paul,
Oor fader lef' ole France behin', dat's many year ago,
An' how we get along since den, wall
ev'ry body know,
Few t'ousan' firse class familee was only come dat tam,
On wan dark night on Lac St
Pierre, De win' she blow, blow, blow, An' de crew of de wood scow "Julie Plante" Got scar't an' run below— For de win' she blow lak hurricane, Bimeby she blow some more, An' de scow bus' up on Lac St
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,
O spirit of the mountain that speaks to us to-night,
Your voice is sad, yet still recalls past visions of delight,
When 'mid the grand old Laurentides, old when the earth was new,
With flying feet we followed the moose and caribou
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 voyag...
I s'pose mos'ev'ry body t'ink hees job's about de hardes' From de boss man on de Guvernement to poor man on de
From de curé to de lawyer, an' de farmer to de school boy An' all de noder feller was mak' de worl' go roun'
But dere 's wan m...
I've told you many a tale, my child, of the old heroic
Of Indian wars and massacre, of villages
With savage torch, from Ville Marie to the Mission of Trois
But never have I told you yet, of Madeleine Vercheres
OU bad leetle boy, not moche you
How busy you're kipin' your poor
Tryin to stop you ev'ry
Chasin' de hen aroun' de hay—W'y don't you geev' dem a chance to lay
Dere 'a s beeg jam up de reever, w'ere rapide is runnin' fas', An' de log we cut las' winter is takin' it all de room; So boss of de gang is swearin', for not'ing at all can pass An' float away down de current till somebody break de boom
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