The Voyageur and Other Poems Part 5

An' soon dere 's comin', all dress to kill, Beeg feller from far away, Shoutin' lak devil on top de hill, An' dis is de t'ing he say--

"Strike for your home an' your own contree!

Strike for your native lan'!

Kip workin' away wit' de spade an' hoe, Den jump w'en you hear de bugle blow, For danger 's aroun', above, below, But de bugle will tell if it 's tam to go."

An' he tak' de flag wit' de star an' stripe, An' holler out--"Look at me!

If any wan touch dat flag, ba cripe!

He 's dead about wan--two--t'ree."

Den he pull it aroun' heem few more tam, An' sit on de rockin' chair, Till somebody cheer for hees Uncle Sam, Dough I don't see de ole man dere.

I got a long story for tell dat night On poor leetle Rose Elmire, An' she say she 's sorry about de fight We 're doin' so well down here-- But it 's not our fault an' we can't help dat, De law she is made for all, So our duty is wait for de rat-tat-tat Of drum an' de bugle call.

An' it 's busy week for Elmire an' me, I 'm sure you 'd pity us too-- Workin' so hard lak you never see, For dere 's plaintee o' job to do-- Den half o' de night packin' up de stuff We got on de small cabane-- An' buyin' a horse, dough he cos' enough, For Yankee 's a hard trade man.

An' how can I sleep if ma wife yell out-- "Gedeon, dere she goes!"

An' bang an' tear all de house about W'en Johnnie is blow hees nose?

Poor leetle chil'ren dey suffer too, Lyin' upon de floor, Wit' de bed made up, for dey never go On de worl' lak dat before.

We got to be ready, of course, an' wait-- De chil'ren, de wife, an' me, For show de Yankee upon de State, Ba Golly! how smart we be.

You know de game dey call checker-boar'?

Wall! me an' ma wife Elmire, We 're playin' dat game on de outside door Wit' leetle wan gader near;

Jus' as de sun on de sky go down An' mountain dey seem so fine, Ev'ryt'ing quiet, don't hear a soun', So I 'm lookin' across de line.

An' I t'ink of de tam I be leevin' dere On county of Yamachiche, De swamp on de bush w'ere I ketch de hare De reever I use to feesh.

An' ma wife Elmire w'en she see de tear, She cry leetle bit herse'f-- Put her han' on ma neck, an' say, "Ma dear, I 'm sorry we never lef'; But money 's good t'ing, an' dere 's nice folk too, Leevin' upon Vermont-- Got plaintee o' work for me an' you-- Is dere anyt'ing more we want?

Dere 's w'at dey 're callin' de war beez-nesse-- It 's troublesome t'ing, of course, But no gettin' off--mus' strike wit' de res', No matter--it might be worse-- We 're savin' along--never lose a day, An' ready w'en bugle blow--"

But dat was de very las' word she say, For dere it commence to go,

Blowin' away on de mountain dere, W'ere snow very seldom melts, Down by de reever an' ev'ryw'ere, We could n't hear not'ing else-- n.o.body stop to fin' out de place, Too busy for dat to-day-- But we never forget de law in de case W'en feller he spik dis way--

"Strike for your home an' your own contree!

Strike for your native lan'!

Kip workin' away wit' de spade an' hoe, Den jump w'en you hear de bugle blow, For danger 's aroun', above, below, But de bugle will tell if it 's tam to go."

An' de chil'ren yell, an' de checker-boar'

Don't do her no good at all-- An' n.o.body never jump before Lak de crowd w'en dey hear de call, Dat was de familee,--bet your life I 'm prouder, ba Gos.h.!.+ to-day Mese'f, de leetle wan, an' de wife, Dan anyt'ing I can say--

'Cos n.o.body strike on de way we do-- For home an' deir own contree-- Wit' fedder bed, stove, de cradle too, An' ev'ryt'ing else we see-- Pilin' de wagon up ten foot high Goin' along de road-- An' de Yankee say as we 're pa.s.sin' by Dey never see such a load--

So dat 's how we 're comin' to Yamachiche-- An' dat 's w'y we 're stayin' here-- Jus' to be quiet an' hunt an' feesh, Not'ing at all to fear-- An' if ever you lissen de Yankee folk Brag an' kick up de fuss-- An' say we 're lak cattle upon de yoke, An' away dey can trot from us--

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Jus' tell dem de news of Gedeon Plouffe-- How he jump wit' de familee."]

Jus' tell dem de news of Gedeon Plouffe-- How he jump wit' de familee An' strike w'en de bugle is raise de roof For home an' hees own contree.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Flower]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

Getting Stout

Eighteen, an' face lak de--w'at 's de good?

Dere 's no use tryin' explain De way she 's lookin', dat girl Marie-- But affer it pa.s.s, de rain, An' sun come out of de cloud behin', An' laugh on de sky wance more-- Wall! dat is de way her eye it s.h.i.+ne W'en she see me upon de door.

An' dere she 's workin' de ole-tam sash, De fines' wan, too, for sure.

"Who is it for, ma belle Marie-- You 're makin' de nice ceinture?

Come out an' sit on de sh.o.r.e below, For watchin' dem draw de net, Ketchin' de feesh," an' she answer, "No, De job is n't finish yet;

"Stan' up, Narcisse, an' we 'll see de fit.

Dat sash it was mak' for you, For de ole wan 's gettin' on, you know, An' o' course it 'll never do If de boy I marry can't go an' spen'

W'at dey 're callin' de weddin' tour Wit' me, for visitin' all hees frien', An' not have a nice ceinture."

An' den she measure dat sash on me, An' I fin' it so long an' wide I pa.s.s it aroun' her, an' dere we stan', De two of us bote inside-- "Could n't be better, ma chere Marie, Dat sash it is fit so well-- It jus' suit you, an' it jus' suit me, An' bote togeder, ma belle."

So I wear it off on de weddin' tour An' long after dat also, An' never a minute I 'm carin' how De win' of de winter blow-- Don't matter de cole an' frosty night-- Don't matter de stormy day, So long as I 'm feex up close an' tight Wit' de ole ceinture fleche.

An' w'ere 's de woman can beat her now, Ma own leetle girl Marie?

For we 're marry to-day jus' feefty year An' never a change I see-- But wan t'ing strange, dough I try ma bes'

For measure dat girl wance more, She say--"Go off wit' de foolishness, Or pa.s.s on de outside door.

"You know well enough dat sash get tight Out on de snow an' wet Drivin' along on ev'ry place, Den how can it fit me yet?

Shows w'at a fool you be, Narcisse, W'enever you go to town; Better look out, or I call de pries'

For makin' you stan' aroun'."

But me, I 'm sure it was never change, Dat sash on de feefty year-- An' I can't understan' to-day at all, W'at 's makin' it seem so queer-- De sash is de sam', an' woman too, Can't fool me, I know too well-- But woman, of course dey offen do Some funny t'ing--you can't tell!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

Doctor Hilaire

A stranger might say if he see heem drink till he almos' fall, "Doctor lak dat for sick folk, he 's never no use at all,"

But wait till you hear de story dey 're tellin' about heem yet, An' see if you don't hear somet'ing, mebbe you won't forget.

Twenty odd year she 's marry, Belzemire Lafreniere, An' oh! but she 's feelin' lonesome 'cos never a sign is dere-- Purty long tam for waitin', but poor leetle Belzemire She 's bad enough now for pay up all of dem twenty year.

Call heem de oldes' doctor, call heem de younges' wan, Bring dem along, no matter if ev'ry dollar 's gone-- T'ree of dem can't do not'ing, workin' for two days dere, She was a very sick woman, Belzemire Lafreniere.

Pierre he was cryin', cryin' out on de barn behin', Neighbors tryin' to kip heem goin' right off hees min', W'en somebody say, "Las' winter, ma wife she is nearly go, An' who do you t'ink is save her? ev'ry wan surely know.

"Drink? does he drink de w'isky? don't care I 'm hees only frien', Dere 's only wan answer comin'. Wall! leetle bit now an' den Doctor Hilaire he tak' it, but if it was me or you Leevin' on Beausejour dere, w'at are you goin' to do?