William Henry Drummond: Все стихи поэта

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The Old Sexton

I know very well t'was purty hard case

If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place

Dan village of Cote St. Paul,

But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more

Wit' de blacksmit' shop an' two fine store

Not to speak of de church an' de city hall.

An' of course on village lak dat you fin'

Some very nice girl if you have a min'

by William Henry Drummond

The Red Canoe

De win' is sleepin' in de pine, but O! de

night is black!

An' all day long de loon bird cry on Lac Waya-

gamack-

No light is shinin' by de shore for helpin' steer

heem t'roo

W'en out upon de night, Ubalde he tak' de

red canoe.

by William Henry Drummond

The Canadian Country Doctor

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 town

From de curé to de lawyer, an' de farmer to

de school boy

An' all de noder feller was mak' de worl'

go roun'.

by William Henry Drummond

Le Vieux Temps

Venez ici, mon cher ami, an' sit down by me—so

An' I will tole you story of old tam long ago—

W'en ev'ryt'ing is happy—w'en all de bird is sing

An' me!—I'm young an' strong lak moose an' not afraid no t'ing.

I close my eye jus' so, an' see de place w'ere I am born—

I close my ear an' lissen to musique of de horn,

Dat 's horn ma dear ole moder blow—an only t'ing she play

Is "viens donc vite Napoléon—'peche toi pour votre souper."—

by William Henry Drummond

The Old Pine Tree

"Listen my child," said the old pine

tree, to the little one nestling near,

"For the storm clouds troop together to-night,

and the wind of the north I hear

And perchance there may come some echo of

the music of long ago,

The music that rang when the White Host

sang, marching across the snow."

by William Henry Drummond

Marie Louise

Dis was de story of boy an' girl

Dat 's love each oder above de worl'

But it 's not easy job for mak' l'amour

W'en de girl she 's riche an' de boy he 's poor

All de sam' he don't worry an' she don't cry,

But wait for good chances come bimedy.

Young Marie Louise Hurtubuise

Was leev wit' her meder la veuve Denise

by William Henry Drummond

My Little Cabane

I'm sittin' to-night on maleetle ca-

bane, more happier dan de king,

An' ev'ry corner 's singin' out wit'

musique de ole stove sing

I hear de cry of de winter win', for de storm-

gate 's open wide

But I don't care not'ing for win'or storm, so

long I was safe inside.

by William Henry Drummond

Mon Frere Camille

Mon frere Camille he was first class blood

W'en he come off de State las' fall,

Wearin' hees boot a la mode box toe

An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also

Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;

But now he 's no blood at all,

Camille, mon frere.

W'at 's makin' dat change on mon frere

by William Henry Drummond

How Bateese Came Home

W'en I was young boy on de farm, dat 's twenty year ago

I have wan frien' he 's leev near me, call Jean Bateese Trudeau

An offen w'en we are alone, we lak for spik about

De tam w'en we was come beeg man, wit' moustache on our mout'.

Bateese is get it on hees head, he 's too moche educate

For mak' de habitant farmerre—he better go on State—

An' so wan summer evening we 're drivin' home de cow

He 's tole me all de whole beez-nesse—jus' lak you hear me now.

by William Henry Drummond

Madeleine Vercheres

I've told you many a tale, my child, of the

old heroic days

Of Indian wars and massacre, of villages ablaze

With savage torch, from Ville Marie to the

Mission of Trois Rivieres

But never have I told you yet, of Madeleine

Vercheres.

Summer had come with its blossoms, and gaily

by William Henry Drummond

Leetle Lac Grenier

Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,

Right on de mountain top,

But cloud sweepin' by, will fin' tam to stop

No matter how quickly he want to go,

So he'll kiss leetle Grenier down below.

Leetle Lac Grenier, she 's all alone,

Up on de mountain high

But she never feel lonesome, 'cos for w'y?

by William Henry Drummond

Bateese And His Little Decoys

O I'm very very tire Marie,

I wonder if I'm able hol' a gun

An' me dat 's alway risin' wit' de sun

An' travel on de water, an' paddle ma canoe

An' trap de mink an' beaver de fall an' winter

t'roo,

But now I t'ink dat fun is gone forever.

Wall! I'm mebbe stayin' long enough,

by William Henry Drummond