Humour of the North Part 2

No wonder he is smile till you hear heem half a mile, For dat morning he was tole hees leetle broder Let de cattle out de gate, so he know it's purty late By de tam dem cow was findin' out each oder.

So along de corduroy de young girl an' de boy Dey was kipin' up a joggin' nice an' steady.

It isn't heavy load, an' Guillaume he know de road For many tam he's been dat way already.

But de girl she fin' it slow, so she ax de boy to go Somet'ing better dan a mile on fifteen minute, An' he's touch heem up, Guillaume; so dat horse he lay for home, An' de nex' t'ing Victorine she know she's in it.

"Oh, pull him in," she yell, "for even on Sorel I am sure I never see de quicker racer,"

But it's leetle bit too late, for de horse is get hees gait An' de worse of all, ba gos.h.!.+ Guillaume's a pacer.

See hees tail upon de air, no wonder she was scare!

But she hang on lak de winter on T'ree Reever.

Cryin' out, "Please hol' me tight, or I'm comin' dead to-night, An' ma poor old moder dear, I got to leave her."

Wit' her arm aroun' hees wais'--she was doin' it in case She bus' her head, or keel herse'f, it's not so easy sayin'-- Dey was comin' on de jomp t'roo dat dam old beaver swamp An' meet de crowd is lookin' for dem cow was go a-strayin'.

Den she' cryin', Victorine, for she's knowin' w'at it mean-- De parish dey was talkin' firse chances dey be gettin'.

But no sooner dat young man stop de horse, he tak' her han'

An' w'isper, "Never min', ma chere, won't do no good a-frettin'."

Non! she isn't cryin' long, for he tole her it was wrong.

She's sure he save her life too, or she was moche mistaken, An' de ole Ma-dame Leveque also kiss heem on de neck An' quickly after dat, Hooraw! de man an' wife dey're makin'.

DOMINIQUE

You dunno ma leetle boy Dominique?

Never see heem runnin' roun' about de place?

'Cos I want to get advice how to kip heem lookin' nice, So he won't be alway dirty on de face.

Now dat leetle boy of mine, Dominique, If you wash heem an' you sen' heem off to school, But instead of goin' dere, he was playin' fox an hare-- Can you tell me how to stop de leetle fool?

"I'd tak' dat leetle feller Dominique, An' I'd put heem on de cellar ev'ry day, An' for workin' out a cure bread an' water's very sure, You can bet he mak' de promise not to play!"

Dat's very well to say, but ma leetle Dominique W'en de jacket we put on heem's only new, An' he's goin' travel roun' on de medder up an' down, Wit' de strawberry on hees pocket runnin' t'roo, An' w'en he climb de fence, see de hole upon hees pant, No wonder hees poor moder's feelin' mad!

So if you ketch heem den, w'at you want to do, ma frien'?

Tell me quickly an' before he get too bad.

"I'd lick your leetle boy Dominique, I'd lick heem till he's crying purty hard, An' for fear he's gettin' spile, I'd geev' heem castor ile, An' I wouldn't let heem play outside de yard."

If you see ma leetle boy Dominique Hangin' on to poor ole "Billy" by de tail, W'en dat horse is feelin' gay, lak I see heem yesterday, I suppose you t'ink he's safer on de jail?

W'en I'm lightin' up de pipe on de evenin' affer work, An' de powder dat young rascal's puttin' in, It was makin' such a pouf, nearly blow me t'roo de roof-- W'at's de way you got of showin' 'twas a sin?

"Wall! I put heem on de jail right away, You may bet de wan is got de beeges' wall!

A honder foot or so, w'ere dey never let heem go, Non! I wouldn't kip a boy lak dat at all."

Dat's good advice for sure, very good, On de cellar, bread an' water--it'll do, De nice sweet castor ile geev heem ev'ry leetle w'ile, An' de jail to finish up wit' w'en he's t'roo!

Ah! ma frien', you never see Dominique W'en he's lyin' dere asleep upon de bed; If you do, you say to me, "W'at an angel he mus' be, An' dere can't be not'ing bad upon hees head."

Many t'ank for your advice, an' it may be good for some, But de reason you was geev it isn't very hard to seek-- Ya.s.s! it's easy seein' now, w'en de talk is over, how You dunno ma leetle boy Dominique.

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

"Wat's use mak foolish on de farm? dere's no good chances lef', An' all de tam you be poor man--you know dat's true you'se'f; We never get no fun at all--don't never go on spree Onless we pa.s.s on 'noder place, an' mak it some monee.

"I go on Les Etats-Unis, I go dere right away, An' den, mebbe, on ten-twelve year, I be rich man some day, An' w'en I mak' de large fortune I come back, I s'pose, Wit' Yankee famme from off de State, an' monee on my clothes.

"I tole you somet'ing else also--mon cher Napoleon-- I get de grande majorite, for go on parliament, Den buil' fine house on borde l'eau--near w'ere de church is stand-- More finer dan de Presbytere, w'en I am come riche man!"

I say, "For w'at you spik lak dat? you must be gone crazee.

Dere's plaintee feller on de State, more smarter dan you be; Besides, she's not so healtee place, an' if you mak l'argent, You spen' it jus' lak Yankee man, an' not lak habitant.

"For me, Bateese, I tole you dis: I'm very satisfy-- De bes' man don't leev too long tam; some day, ba gos.h.!.+ he die-- An' s'pose you got good trotter horse, an' nice famme Canadienne Wit' plaintee on de house for eat--W'at more you want, ma frien'?"

But Bateese have it all mak' up, I can't stop him at all.

He's buy, etc., seconde cla.s.se tiquette, for go on Central Fall, An' wit' two-t'ree some more de boy--w'at t'ink de sam' he do-- Pa.s.s on de train de very nex' wick, was lef' Riviere du Loup.

Wall! mebbe fifteen year or more since Bateese go away I fin' meself Riviere du Loup, wan cole, cole winter day.

De quick express she come, horraw! but stop de soon she can, An' beeg swell feller jomp off car, dat's boss by n.i.g.g.e.r man.

He's dressim on de premiere cla.s.se, an' got new suit of clothes Wit' long moustache dat's stickin' out, de 'noder side hees nose, Fine gol' watch chain--nice portmanteau--an' long, long overcoat Wit beaver hat--dat's Yankee style--an' red tie on hees t'roat--

I say, "h.e.l.lo, Bateese! h.e.l.lo! Comment ca va, mon vieux?"

He say, "Excuse to me, ma frien', I t'ink I don't know you."

I say, "She's very curis t'ing, you are Bateese Trudeau, Was raise on just sam' place wit' me, dat's fifteen year ago?"

He say, "Oh ya.s.s, dat's sure enough--I know you now firs'-rate; But I forget mos' all ma French since I go on de State.

Dere's 'noder t'ing kip on your head, ma frien', dey mus' be tole Ma name's Bateese Trudeau no more, but John B. Waterhole!"

"Hole on de water's" fonny name for man wat's call Trudeau; Ma frien's dey all was spik lak dat, an' I am tole heem so.

He say, "Trudeau an' Waterhole, she's jus' about de sam, An' if you for leev on State, you must have Yankee nam'."

Den we invite heem come wit' us, "Hotel du Canadaw,"

W'ere he was treat mos' ev'ry tam, but can't tak' w'iskey blanc.

He say sat's leetle strong for man jus' come off Central Fall, An "tabac Canayen" bedamme! he won't smoke dat at all!

But fancy drink lak "Collings John" de way he put it down!

Was long tam since I don't see dat--I t'ink he's goin' drown!-- An' fine cigar cos' five cent each, an' mak' on Trois-Rivieres!

L'enfant! he smoke beeg pile of dem--for monee he don't care!