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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

by William Henry Drummond

The Old House And The New

Is it only twelve mont' I play de fool,

You're sure it 's correc' , ma dear?

I 'm glad for hearin' you spik dat way

For I t'ink it was twenty year,

Since leffin' de leetle ole house below,

I mak' wit' ma own two han'

For go on dat fine beeg place, up dere-

Mon Dieu! I'm de crazy man!

by William Henry Drummond

The Oyster Schooner

W'at's all dem bell a ringin' for, a can

hear dem ev'ry w'ere?

W'at's bring de peop' togeder on de w'arf at

Trois Rivieres,

Dat happy crowd is look so glad, w'y are dey

comin' dere?

O! de reason dey're so happy w'ile dey're

waitin' dere to-day

by William Henry Drummond

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,

by William Henry Drummond

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.

by William Henry Drummond

The Wreck Of The Julie Plante

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. Pierre

Wan arpent from de shore.

by William Henry Drummond

The Corduroy Road

De corduroy road go bompety bomp,

De corduroy road go jompety jomp,

An' he' s takin'beeg chances upset hees load

De horse dat 'll trot on de corduroy road.

Of course it's purty rough, but it's handy

t'ing enough

An' dey mak' it wit' de log all jine togeder

W'en deystrek de swampy groun' w' ere de

by William Henry Drummond

The Dublin Fusilier

Here's to you, Uncle Kruger! slainté!

an' slainté galore.

You 're a dacint ould man, begorra; never

mind if you are a Boer.

So with heart an' a half ma boucahl, we 'll

drink to your health to-night

For yourself an' your farmer sojers gave us a

damn good fight.

by William Henry Drummond

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.

by William Henry Drummond

Strathcona's Horse

O I was thine, and thou wert mine, and

ours the boundless plain,

Where the winds of the North, my gallant

steed, ruffled thy tawny mane,

But the summons hath come with roll of drum,

and bugles ringing shrill,

Startling the prairie antelope, the grizzly of the

hill.

by William Henry Drummond

The Canadian Magpie

Mos' ev'ryman lak de robin

An' it's pleasan' for hear heem sing,

Affer de winter 's over

An' it 's comin' anoder spring.

De snow 's hardly off de mountain

An' it's cole too among de pine

But you know w'en he sing, de sout' win'

Is crowdin' heem close behin' .

by William Henry Drummond

National Policy

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,

An' now we got pure Canayens; t'ee million

peop' bedamme!

by William Henry Drummond