The Voyageur and Other Poems Part 4

Den w'en all de work is finish, w'at dey 're callin' de surveyor He 's comin' here an' fin' us, an' of course so well he might-- For it 's easy job to foller, w'en de road is lyin' dere, So blin' man he can walk it wit' hees eyes closed, darkes' night.

An' de nex' t'ing dere 's a towns.h.i.+p, an' de towns.h.i.+p bring de taxes, An' it 's leetle hard on us too, dat 's way it seem to me-- An' de Gover'ment, I s'pose dey 'll never t'ink at all to ax us For de small account dey 're owin' mese'f an' Rosalie.

So we 'll see de beeg procession very soon come up de reever-- Some will settle on de roadside, some will stay upon de sh.o.r.e-- But de ole place we be clearin', I don't t'ink we 'll never leave her, Dough we 're all surroun' by stranger an' we 're in de worl' wance more.

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Natural Philosophy

Very offen I be t'inkin' of de queer folk goin' roun', And way dey kip a-talkin' of de hard tam get along-- May have plaintee money too, an' de healt' be good an' soun'-- But you 'll fin' dere 's alway somet'ing goin' wrong-- 'Course dere may be many reason w'y some feller ought to fret-- But me, I 'm alway singin' de only song I know-- 'T is n't long enough for music, an' so short you can't forget, But it drive away de lonesome, an' dis is how she go, "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

Funny feller 's w'at dey call me--"so diff'ren' from de res',"

But ev'rybody got hees fault, as far as I can see-- An' all de t'ing I 'm doin', I do it for de bes', Dough w'en I 'm bettin' on a race, dat 's often loss for me-- "Oho!" I say, "Alphonse ma frien', to-day is not your day, For more you got your money up, de less your trotter go-- But never min' an' don't lie down," dat 's w'at I alway say, An' sing de sam' ole song some more, mebbe a leetle slow-- "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

S'pose ma uncle die an' let me honder-dollar, mebbe two-- An' I don't tak' hees advice--me--for put heem on de bank-- 'Stead o' dat, some lot'rie ticket, to see w'at I can do, An' purty soon I 'm findin' out dey 're w'at you call de blank-- Wall! de bank she might bus' up dere--somet'ing might go wrong-- Dem feller, w'en dey get it, mebbe skip before de night-- Can't tell--den w'ere 's your money? So I sing ma leetle song An' don't boder wit' de w'isky, an' again I feel all right, "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

If you 're goin' to mak' de marry, kip a look out on de eye, But no matter how you 're careful, it was risky anyhow-- An' if you 're too unlucky, jus' remember how you try For gettin' dat poor woman, dough she may have got you now-- All de sam', it sometam happen dat your wife will pa.s.s away-- No use cryin', you can't help it--dere 's your duty to you'se'f-- You don't need to ax de neighbor, dey will tell you ev'ry day Start again lak hones' feller, for dere's plaintee woman lef'-- "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

Poor man lak me, I 'm not'ing: only w'en election 's dere, An' ev'rybody 's waitin' to ketch you by de t'roat-- De money I be makin' den, wall! dat was mon affaire-- An' affer all w'at diff'rence how de poor man mak' de vote?

So I do ma very bes'--me--wit' de wife an' familee-- On de church door Sunday morning, you can see us all parade-- Len' a frien' a half a dollar, an' never go on spree-- So w'en I 'm comin' die--me--no use to be afraid-- "Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck."

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Champlain

"W'ere 'll we go?" says Pierre de Monts,[1]

To hese'f as he walk de forwar' deck, "For I got ma share of Trois Rivieres An' I never can lak Kebeck-- Too moche Nort' Pole--maudit! it 's cole Oh! la! la! de win' blow too.

An' I 'm sure w'at I say, M'sieu Pontgrave He know very well it 's true.

But here 's de boat, an' we 're all afloat A honder an' fifty ton-- An' look at de lot of man we got, No better beneat' de sun-- Provision, too, for all de crew An' pries' for to say de prayer, So mes chers amis, dey can easy see De vessel mus' pa.s.s somew'ere.

If I only know de way to go For findin' some new an' pleasan' lan',"

But jus' as he spik, he turn roun' quick, An' dere on de front, sir, stan' de Man.

"You was callin' me, I believe," says he, As brave as a lion--"Tiens!

W'en we reach de sea, an' de s.h.i.+p is free, You can talk wit' Samuel de Champlain." [2]

Wan look on hees eye an' he know for w'y Young Samuel spik no more, So he shake hees han', an' say, "Young man, Too bad you don't come before; But now you are here, we 'll geev' t'ree cheer, An' away w'erever you want to go-- For I lak your look an' swear on de Book You 'll fin' de good frien' on Pierre de Monts."

So de sail 's set tight, an' de win' is right, For it 's blowin' dem to de wes'-- An' dey say deir prayer, for G.o.d knows w'ere De anchor will come to res'-- Adieu to de sh.o.r.e dey may see no more-- Good-bye to de song an' dance-- De girl dey love, an' de star above Kipin' watch on de lan' of France.

Den it 's "Come below, M'sieu Pierre de Monts,"

Champlain he say to de capitaine-- "An' I 'll tell to you, w'at I t'ink is true Dough purty hard, too, for understan'-- I dream a dream an' it alway seem Dat G.o.d hese'f he was say to me-- 'Rise up, young man, de quick you can An' sail your s.h.i.+p on de western sea.

"'De way may be long, an' de win' be strong, An' wave sweep over de leetle boat-- But never you min', an' you 're sure to fin', If you trus' in me, you will kip afloat.'

An' I tak' dat s.h.i.+p, an' I mak' de trip All on de dream I was tellin' you-- An' oh! if you see w'at appear to me, I wonder w'at you was a-t'inkin' too?

"I come on de lan' w'ere dere 's no w'ite man-- I come on de sh.o.r.e w'ere de gra.s.s is green-- An' de air is clear as de new-born year, An' of all I was see, dis lan's de Queen-- So I 'm satisfy if we only try An' fin' if dere 's anyt'ing on ma dream, An' I 'll show de way," Champlain is say-- Den Pierre de Monts he is answer heem,

"All right, young man, do de bes' you can-- So long you don't bring me near Kebeck-- Or Trois Rivieres, not moche I care, An' I hope your dream's comin' out correc'."

So de brave Champlain he was say, "Tres bien,"

An' soon he was boss of de s.h.i.+p an' crew An' pile on de sail, wedder calm or gale-- Oh! dat is de feller know w'at to do.

Don't I see heem dere wit' hees long black hair On de win' blowin' out behin'-- Watchin' de s.h.i.+p as she rise an' dip, An' always follerin' out de Sign?

An' day affer day I can hear heem say To de sailor man lonesome for home an' frien', "Cheer up, mes amis, for soon you will see De lan' risin' up on de oder en'."

Wall! de tam go by, an' still dey cry "Oh! bring us back for de familee's sake."

Even Pierre de Monts fin' it leetle slow An' t'ink mebbe somebody mak' mistake-- But he don't geev' in for he 's boun' to win'-- De young Champlain--an' hees heart grow strong W'en de voice he hear say, "Never fear; You won't have to suffer for very long."

Alone on de bow I can see heem now Wan mornin' in May w'en de sun was rise-- Smellin' de air lak a bloodhoun', dere-- An' de light of de Heaven s.h.i.+ne on hees eyes.

A minute or more he is wait before He tak' off de hat an' raise hees han'-- Den down on de knee, sayin', "Dieu merci!"

He cross hese'f dere, an' I understan'--

"Ho! Ho! De Monts! are you down below, Sleepin' so soun' on de bed somew'ere?

If you 're feelin' well, come up an' tell W'at kin' of a cloud you be seein' dere."

Den every wan shout w'en de voice ring out Of de young Champlain on dat summer day, "Lan'! it is lan'!" cry de sailor man-- You can hear dem holler ten mile away.

Port Rossignol is de place dey call (I 'm sorry dat nam' it was disappear); An' mos' ev'ry tree dem Frenchman see Got nice leetle bird singin', "Welcome here."

An' happy dey were, dem voyageurs An' de laugh come out on de sailors' face-- No wonder, too, w'en de sh.o.r.e dey view, For w'ere can you see it de better place?

If you want to fin' w'at is lef' behin'

Of de story I try very hard tell you, Don't bodder me now or raise de row, But study de book de sam' I do.

[1] De-mo.

[2] Shaum-pla.

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Pro Patria

Was leevin' across on de State Vermont; W'ere mountain so high you see-- Got plaintee to do, so all I want Is jus' to be quiet--me-- No bodder, no fuss, only work aroun'

On job I don't lak refuse-- But affer de familee settle down It 's come w'at dey call war-news.

De Spanish da-go he was gettin' mad, An' he 's dangerous l'Espagnol!

An' ev'ry wan say it was lookin' bad, Not safe on de State at all-- So Yankee he 's tryin' for sell hees farm, An' town 's very moche excite, Feexin' de gun an' de fire-alarm, An' ban' playin' ev'ry night.