The Voyageur and Other Poems Part 9

Charmette

Away off back on de mountain-side, Not easy t'ing fin' de spot, W'ere de lake below is long an' wide, A nice leetle place I got, Mebbe ten foot deep by twenty-two, An' if you see it, I bet You 'll not be surprise w'en I tole to you I chrissen dat place Charmette.

Dat 's purty beeg word, Charmette, for go On poor leetle house so small, Wit' only wan chimley, a winder or so, An' no galerie at all-- But I want beeg word, so de worl' will know W'at dat place it was mean to me, An' dere on de book of Jean Jacques Rousseau, Charmette is de nam' I see.

O ma dear Charmette! an' de stove is dere, (Good stove) an' de wood-pile too.

An' stretch out your finger mos' anyw'ere, Dere 's plaintee for comfort you-- You 're hongry? wall! you got pork an' bean, Mak' you feel lak Edouard de King-- You 're torsty? Jus' look dere behin' de screen, An' mebbe you fin' somet'ing--

Ha! Ha! you got it. Ma dear Charmette.

Dere 's many fine place, dat 's true, If you travel aroun' de worl', but yet W'ere is de place lak you?

Open de door, don't kip it close-- W'at 's air of de mornin' for?

Would you fa.s.sen de door on de win' dat blows Over G.o.d's own boulevard?

You see dat lake? Wall! I alway hate To brag--but she 's full of trout, So full dey can't jump togeder, but wait An' tak' deir chance, turn about-- An' if you be campin' up dere above, De mountain would be so high, Very offen de camp you 'd have to move, Or how can de moon pa.s.s by?

[Ill.u.s.tration: "You see dat lake? Wall! I alway hate To brag--but she 's full of trout."]

It 's wonderful place for sure, Charmette, An' ev'ry wan say to me-- I got all de pleasure de man can get 'Cept de wife an' de familee-- But somebody else can marry ma wife, Have de familee too also, W'at more do I want, so long ma life Was spare to me here below?

For we can't be happier dan we been Over twenty year, no siree!

An' if ever de stranger come between De leetle Charmette an' me, Den all I can say is, kip out de way, For dynamite sure I 'll get, An' affer dat you can hunt all day For me an' ma dear Charmette.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

Lac Souci

Talk about lakes! dere 's none dat lies in Laurentide mountain or near de sea, W'en de star 's gone off an' de sun is risin', Can touch w'at dey call it Lac Souci, Restin' dere wit' de woods behin' her, Sleepin' dere t'roo de summer night-- But watch her affer de mornin's fin' her, An' over de hill-top s.h.i.+ne de light.

See w'ere de shadder sweep de water, Pine tree an' cloud, how dey come an' go; Careful now, an' you 'll see de otter Slidin' into de pool below-- Look at de loon w'en de breeze is ketch heem Shakin' hese'f as he c.o.c.k de eye!

Takes a nice leetle win' to fetch heem, So he 's gettin' a chance to fly.

Every bird dey mus' kip behin' heem W'en he 's only jus' flap de wing, Ah! dere he 's goin'--but never min' heem, For lissen de robin begin to sing-- Trout 's comin' up too!--dat 's beeg rise dere, Four of dem! Golly! it 's purty hard case, No rod here, an' dey 're all good size dere!

Don't ax me not'ing about de place.

No use n.o.body goin' murder T'ree an' four pounder lak dat, siree!

Wall! if you promise it won't go furder I 'll tole you nex' summer--bimeby--mebbe-- W'at is dat movin' among de spruce dere?

Sure as I 'm livin' dere 's 'noder wan too-- Offen enough I 'm gettin' a moose dere, Non!--it 's only a couple of caribou.

Black duck so early? See how dey all come, Wan leetle family roun' de ben'-- Let dem enjoy it, wait till de fall come, Dey won't be feelin' so happy den!

Smoke on de mountain? Ya.s.s, I can smell her-- Who is it now, Jean Bateese Boucher?

Geev' me some tam, an' I 'll feex dat feller Shootin' de moose on de summer day.

W'at do you t'ink of a sapree beaver Hittin' hees tail on de lake dat way?

Ought to be home wit' hees wife--not leave her Workin' away on de house all day-- Funny t'ing, too, how he alway fin' me Sailin' along on de ole canoe, Lookin' for sign--den bang! behin' me An' down on de water--dat's w'at he do.

Otter fees.h.i.+n' an' bob cat cryin'-- Up on de sky de beeg black hawk-- Down on de swamp w'ere a dead log 's lyin', Pa'tridge doin' hees own cake-walk!

If you never was see dem, hear dem-- Tak' leetle tour on de Lac Souci, An' w'enever you 're comin' near dem, You 're goin' crazy de sam' as me.

Talk about lakes of every nation, Talk about water of any kin', Don't matter you go over all creation-- De Lac Souci she can beat dem blin'.

Happy to leev an' happy to die dere-- But Heaven itself won't satisfy me, Till I fin' leetle hole off on de sky dere W'ere I can be lookin' on Lac Souci!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Border]

Poirier's Rooster

"W'at's dat? de ole man gone, you say?

Wall! Wall! he mus' be sick, For w'en he pa.s.s de oder day, He walk along widout de stick, Lak twenty year or so-- Fine healt'y man, ole Telesph.o.r.e, I never see heem sick before, Some rheumat.e.e.z, but not'ing more-- Please tell me how he go."

You 're right, no common t'ing for sure Is kill heem lak de res'; No sir! de man was voyageur Upon de Grande Nor' Wes'

Until he settle here Is not de feller 's goin' die Before he 's ready by an' bye, So if you want de reason w'y I 'll tell you, never fear.

You know how moche he lak to spik An' tole us ev'ryt'ing about De way de French can alway lick An' pull de w'ole worl' inside out, Poor Telesph.o.r.e Cadotte!

He 's knowin' all de victory, An' braves' t'ing was never be, To hear heem talk, it 's easy see He 's firse-cla.s.s patriot.

Hees leetle shoe store ev'ry night Can hardly hol' de crowd of folk Dat come to lissen on de fight, An' w'en you see de pile of smoke An' hear ole Telesph.o.r.e Hammer de boot upon hees knee, You t'ink of course of Chateauguay, An' feel dat 's two, t'ree enemy Don't bodder us no more.

But oh! dat evening w'en he sen'

De call aroun' for come en ma.s.se, An' den he say, "Ma dear ole frien', Dere 's somet'ing funny come to pa.s.s, I lak you all to hear-- You know dat Waterloo affair?

H-s-s-h! don't get excite, you was n't dere-- All quiet? Wall! I 'll mak' it square, So lissen on your ear.

"I 'm readin' on de book to-day (Some book, dey say, was guarantee), An' half a dollar too I pay, But cheap, because it 's tellin' me De t'ing I 'm glad to know-- Of course de w'ole worl' understan'

Napoleon fight de bes' he can, But he 's not French at all, dat man, But leetle small Da-go.

"Anoder t'ing was mak' it show Dere 's not'ing new below de sun, Is w'en I 'm findin' as I go-- Dat feller dey call Welling-ton, He 's English? No siree!

But only maudit Irlandais!

(Dat 's right! dey 're alway in de way, Dem Irish folk), an' so I say I 'm satisfy for me.

"It 's not our fault, dat 's all explain-- Dere 's no use talk of Waterloo, Not our affair--" an' off again He hammer, hammer on de shoe, An' don't say not'ing more, But w'issle "Madame Isabeau,"

Good news lak dat is cheer heem so-- Den tak' a drink before we go, De poor ole Telesph.o.r.e!

An' now he 's gone! Wall! I dunno, Can't say--he 's better off meb-be, Don't work so hard on w'ere he go-- Dat 's wan t'ing sure I 'm t'inkin'--me-- Unless he los' hees track.

But w'en dat boy come runnin' in De leetle shop, an' start begin On Poirier's rooster, how he win-- I lak to break hees back.

Poor Telesph.o.r.e was tellin' how Joe Monferrand can't go to sleep, Until he 's kickin' up de row, Den pile dem nearly ten foot deep, Dem English sojer man-- Can't blame de crowd dey all hooraw, For bes' man on de Ottawaw, An' geev' t'ree cheer for Canadaw, De very bes' dey can.

An' Telesph.o.r.e again he start For tell de story leetle more, Anoder wan before we part, W'en bang! a small boy t'roo de door On w'at you call "full pelt,"

Is yellin' till it reach de skies, "Poirier's rooster got de prize, Poirier's rooster got de prize, An' win de Champion belt!"

An' sure enough, he beat dem all, Joe Poirier's leetle red game bird, On beeges' show dey have dis fall,-- De Yankee rooster only t'ird An' Irish number two-- We hear a jump, an' Telesph.o.r.e-- I never see de lak before-- He flap hees wing upon de floor An' c.o.c.k a doodle doo!

Dat 's finish heem, he 's gone at las', An' never come aroun' again-- We 'll miss heem w'en we 're goin' pas', An' see no light upon de pane-- But pleasure we have got, We 'll kip it on de memory yet, An' dough of course we 'll offen fret, Dere 's wan t'ing sure, we 'll not forget Poor Telesph.o.r.e Cadotte!