The Voyageur and Other Poems Part 7

If he had only kissed her, Poor leetle rossignol!

But he was los' hees sister, An' it 's alone he call-- Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear heem call, Hear heem call--poor leetle rossignol!

Only a day of gladness, Only a day of song, Only a night of sadness Lastin' de w'ole life long.

Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear heem call, Hear heem call--poor leetle rossignol!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

Meb-be

A quiet boy was Joe Bedotte, An' no sign anyw'ere Of anyt'ing at all he got Is up to ordinaire-- An' w'en de teacher tell heem go An' tak' a holiday, For wake heem up, becos' he 's slow, Poor Joe would only say, "Wall! meb-be."

Don't bodder no wan on de school Unless dey bodder heem, But all de scholar t'ink he 's fool Or walkin' on a dream-- So w'en dey 're closin' on de spring Of course dey 're moche surprise Dat Joe is takin' ev'ry-t'ing Of w'at you call de prize.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Don't bodder no wan on de school Unless dey bodder heem."]

An' den de teacher say, "Jo-seph, I know you 're workin' hard-- Becos' w'en I am pa.s.s mese'f I see you on de yard A-splittin' wood--no doubt you stay An' study half de night?"

An' Joe he spik de sam' ole way So quiet an' polite, "Wall! meb-be."

Hees fader an' hees moder die An' lef' heem dere alone Wit' chil'ren small enough to cry, An' farm all rock an' stone-- But Joe is fader, moder too, An' work bote day an' night An' clear de place--dat 's w'at he do, An' bring dem up all right.

De Cure say, "Jo-seph, you know Le bon Dieu 's very good-- He feed de small bird on de snow, De caribou on de wood-- But you deserve some credit too-- I spik of dis before."

So Joe he dunno w'at to do An' only say wance more, "Wall! meb-be."

An' Joe he leev' for many year An' helpin' ev'ry wan Upon de parish far an' near Till all hees money 's gone-- An' den de Cure come again Wit' tear-drop on hees eye-- He know for sure poor Joe, hees frien', Is well prepare to die.

"Wall! Joe, de work you done will tell W'en you get up above-- De good G.o.d he will treat you well An' geev' you all hees love.

De poor an' sick down here below, I 'm sure dey 'll not forget,"

An' w'at you t'ink he say, poor Joe, Drawin' hees only breat'?

"Wall! meb-be."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

Snubbing (Tying-up) the Raft

Las' night dey 're pa.s.sin', de golden plover, Dis mornin' I 'm seein' de bluebird's wing, So if not'ing go wrong, de winter 's over, An' not very long till we got de spring.

An' nex' t'ing de reever she 'll start a-hummin', An' den you 'll hear it, de song an' laugh, Is tellin' de news, de boys are comin'

Home again on de saw-log raf'.

All very well for see dem swingin'

Roun' de beeg islan' dere on de bay, Nice t'ing too, for to hear dem singin', 'Cos it mak' me t'ink of de good ole day.

An' me--I could lissen dem song forever, But it is n't so pleasan' w'en evenin' fall, An' dey 're lookin' for place to stay, an' never Snub de raf' on ma place at all---

Dat 's de fine cove if dey only know it-- Hard to fin' better on St. Maurice, Up de reever or down below it, An' house on de hill only leetle piece.

W'at is de reason den, w'en dey fin' dem Raf' comin' near me, dey all get scare, An' pull lak de devil was close behin' dem, An' 'way down de reever to Joe Belair?

Two mile more, wit' de rock an' stone dere, An' water so shallow can't float canoe, But ev'ry boy of de gang, he 's goin' dere, Even de cook, an' de captain too--

W'at is de reason, I lak to know--me-- Ma own leetle cove 's lyin' empty dere, An' n.o.body stop till dey go below me, Snubbin' de raf' on Joe Belair?

Not'ing lak dat twenty year ago, sir, W'en voyageurs' comin' from up above, Dere 's only wan place us feller know, sir, W'en dey 're goin' ash.o.r.e, an' dat's de cove.

An' dere on door of de house she 's stan'nin'

To welcome us back, Madame Baribeau, An' Pierre hese'f, he was on de lan'nin', Ready for ketchin' de rope we t'row.

An' oh! de girl use to mak' us crazy-- For many a fine girl Pierre has got-- Right on de jomp too--never lazy, But Sophie 's de fines' wan of de lot.

Me--I was only a comon feller, An' love--wall! jus' lak de leetle calf, An' it's true, I 'm sure, w'at dey offen tell her, I 'm de uglies' man on boar' de raf'.

But Sophie 's so nice an' good shese'f too, De uglies' man upon all de worl'

Forget hees face an' forget hese'f too, T'ree minute affer he see dat girl--

An' dat 's de reason de chance is better, For you must n't be t'ink of you'se'f at all, But t'ink of de girl if you want to get her, An' so we 're marry upon de fall.

An' purty soon den dey all get started, For marryin' fever come so strong W'en de firse wan go, dat dey 're broken-hearted An' tak' mos' anyt'ing come along.

So Joe Belair, w'en hees house is buil' dere, He go down de reever wit' Eugenie, An' place I settle on top de hill dere, De ole man geev' it to Sophie an' me.

An' along dey come, wan foller de oder, Dozen o' girl--not a boy at all-- Never a girl tak' affer de moder, But all lak de fader, beeg an' small--

A dozen o' girl, of course, no wonder A few of dem look lak me--sapree!

But w'en dey 're comin' dat way, ba tonder!

She 's jus' a leetle too moche for me.

An' Joe Belair, he was down below me, Funny t'ing too, he is ketch also, Ev'ryt'ing girl--how it come dunno--me-- But dey 're all lak de familee Baribeau--

Growin' up purty de sam' de moder-- An' soon as dey know it along de sh.o.r.e De boys stop comin', an' never bodder For snub de raf' on ma place no more--

So w'at is de chance ma girl she 's gettin', Don't care w'ere I look, none at all I see, No use, I s'pose, kipin' on a-frettin', Dough it's very hard case poor man lak me.

W'at 'll I do for bring dem here,--me?

Can't be blowin' dem to de moon-- Or buil' a dam on de reever near me For fear we 're sure to be drownin' soon.

To-night I can hear hees darn ole fiddle, Playin' away on Joe Belair-- Can hear heem holler, "Pa.s.s down de middle An' dance on your partner over dere."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "To-night I can hear hees darn ole fiddle, Playin' away on Joe Belair."]

Pleasan' t'ing too, for to smell de w'isky Off on de leetle back room--ba oui-- Helpin' de ole folk mak' dem frisky, Very pleasan' for dem, but not for me--

Oh! it mak' me mad, an' I 'm tire tryin'

To show how I feel, an' it 's hard to tell-- So I 'll geev' it up, for dere 's no good cryin'; 'Sides w'at is de use of a two-mile smell?