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!
Dat's purty smart beez-neese, I t'ink we done
on Canadaw,
An' we don't mak' no grande hooraw, but do
it tranquillement
So if we're braggin' now an' den, we mus' be
excuzay,
For no wan's never see before de record bus'
dat way.
An' w'y should we be feel ashame, 'cos we
have boy an' girl?
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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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' .
An' mebbe you hear de grosbec
Sittin' above de nes'-
An' you see by de way he 's goin'
De ole man 's doin' hees bes'
Makin' de wife an' baby
Happy as dey can be-
An' proud he was come de fader
Such fine leetle familee.
De gouglou of course he 's nicer
Dan many bird dat fly,
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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De Papineau Gun
AN INCIDENT OF THE CANADIAN REBELLION OF 1837.
Bon jour, M'sieu'--you want to know
'Bout dat ole gun--w'at good she's for?
W'y! Jean Bateese Bruneau--mon pere,
Fight wit' dat gun on Pap'neau War!
Long tam since den you say--C'est vrai,
An' me too young for 'member well,
But how de patriot fight an' die,
I offen hear de ole folk tell.
De English don't ack square dat tam,
Don't geev de habitants no show,
So 'long come Wolfred Nelson
Wit' Louis Joseph Papineau.
An' swear de peep mus' have deir right.
Wolfred he's write Victoriaw,
But she's no good, so den de war
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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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,
W'it deir cousin w'at you call coureurs de bois,
Dat 's fightin' all de tam, an' never care a dam,
An' ev'ry wan dem feller he 's come from
Canadaw
Baptême!
He 's comin' all de way from Canadaw.
But He watch dem, le bon Dieu, for He's got
some work to do,
An He won't trus' ev'ry body, no siree!
Only full blood Canadien, lak Marquette an'
Hennepin,
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Little Mouse
Get along leetle mouse, kick de snow up
behin' you
For it's fine winter road we 're travelto-
night
Wit' de moon an' de star shinin' up on de sky
dere
W'y it 's almos' de sam' as de broad day
light.
De bell roun' your body it 's quick tune dey 're
playin'
But your foot 's kippin' tam jus' as steady
can be,
Ah! you dance youse'f crazy if only I let you,
Ma own leetle pony- petite souris.
You 'member w'en firse we be tryin' for broke
you
An' Joe Sauvageau bet hees two dollar bill
He can drive you alone by de bridge on de
reever
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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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
Is becos de oyster schooner she's sailin' up de
bay
An' de caraquette an' malpecque will quickly
melt away
Affer she was t'row de anchor on t'ree reever.
For w'y dey mak' de fuss lak dat, an' nearly
broke deir neck,
Ain't dey got de noder oyster more better dan
malpecque
Or caraquette, dat leetle wan from down be-
low Kebeck?
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Memories
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.
And backward rush sweet memories, like fragments of a dream,
We hear the dip of paddle blades, the ripple of the stream,
The mad, mad rush of frightened wings from brake and covert start,
The breathing of the woodland, the throb of nature's heart.
Once more beneath our eager feet the forest carpet springs,
We march through gloomy valleys, where the vesper sparrow sings.
The little minstrel heeds us not, nor stays his plaintive song,
As with our brave coureurs de bois we swiftly pass along.
Again o'er dark Wayagamack, in bark canoe we glide,
And watch the shades of evening glance along the mountain side.
Anon we hear resounding the wizard loon's wild cry,
And mark the distant peak whereon the ling'ring echoes die.
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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De Notaire Publique
M'sieu Paul Joulin, de Notaire Publique
Is come I s'pose seexty year hees life
An' de mos' riche man on Sainte Angelique
W'en he feel very sorry he got no wife--
So he's paint heem hees buggy, lak new, by Gor!
Put flower on hees coat, mak' hese'f more gay
Arrange on hees head fine chapeau castor
An' drive on de house of de Boulanger.
For de Boulanger's got heem une jolie fille
Mos' bes' lookin' girl on paroisse dey say
An' all de young feller is lak Julie
An' plaintee is ax her for mak' mariée,
But Julie she's love only jus' wan man,
Hees nam' it is Jérémie Dandurand
An' he's work for her sak' all de hard he can
'Way off on de wood, up de Mattawa.
M'Sieu Paul he spik him 'Bonjour Mamzelle,
You lak promenade on de church wit' me?
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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The Hill Of San Sebastian
I ought to feel more satisfy an' happy dan
I be,
For better husban' dan ma own, it 's very
hard to fin'
An' plaintee woman if dey got such boy an'
girl as me
Would never have no troub' at all, an'
not'ing on deir min'
But w'ile dey're alway wit' me, an' dough I
love dem all
I can't help t'inkin' w'en I watch de chil'ren
out at play
Of tam I'm jus' lak dat mese'f, an' den de
tear will fall
For de hill of St. Sebastien is very far away!
It seem so pleasan' w'en I come off here ten
year ago
An' hardes' work I 'm gettin' den, was never
heavy load,
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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Johnnie Courteau
Johnnie Courteau of de mountain
Johnnie Courteau of de hill
Dat was de boy can shoot de gun
Dat was de boy can jomp an' run
An'it's not very often you ketch heem still
Johnnie Courteau !
Ax dem along de reever
Ax dem along de shore
Who was de mos'bes'fightin'man
From Managance to Shaw-in-I-gan?
De place we're de great beeg rapide roar,
Johnnie Courteau !
Sam'tíng on ev'ry shaintee
Up on de Mekinac
Who was the man man walk de log,
W'en w'ole of de reever she's black wit'fog
An'carry de beeges'load on hees back?
Johnnie Courteau !
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poem by William Henry Drummond
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