William Henry Drummond - Mon Frere CamilleWilliam Henry Drummond - Mon Frere Camille
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Mon frere Camille he was first class blood
W`en he come off de State las` fall,
Wearin` hees boot a la mode box toe
An` diamon` pin on hees shirt also
Sam` as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;
But now he `s no blood at all,
Camille, mon frere.
W`at `s makin` dat change on mon frere
Camille?
Wall! lissen for minute or two,
An` I `ll try feex it up on de leetle song
Dat `s geevin` some chance kin` o` help it
along
So wedder I`m right or wedder I`m wrong
You `ll know all about heem w`en I get
t`roo,
Mon frere Camille.
He never sen` leter for t` orteen year
So of course he mus` be all right
Till telegraph `s comin` from Kan-Ka-Kee
"I `m leffin` dis place on de half pas`t`ree
W`at you want to bring is de beg` buggee
An` double team sure for me t` orsday night
Ton frere Camille."
I wish you be dere w`en Camille arrive
I bet you will say "W`at `s dat?"
For he `s got leetle cap very lak tuque bleu
Ole habitant `s wearin` in bed, dat`s true,
An` w`at do you t`ink he carry too?
Geev it up? Wall! small valise wit` de fine
plug hat.
Mon frere Camille.
"Very strange." I know you will say right off,
For dere `s not`ing wrong wit` hees clothes,
An` he put on style all de bes` he can
Wit` diamon` shinin` across hees han`
An` de way he`s talkin` lak Yankee man
Mus` be purty hard on hees nose,
Mon frere Camille.
But he `s splain all dat about funny cap,
An` tole us de reason w`y,
It seem no feller can travel far,
An` specially too on de Pullman car,
`Less dey wear leetle cap only `cos dollarre,
Dat `s true if he never die,
Mon frere Camille.
Don`t look very strong dem fancy boot
But he `s splain all dat also
He say paten` ledder she `s nice an` gay
You don`t need to polish dem ev`ry day,
Besides he `s too busy for dat alway,
W`en he`s leevin` on Chi-caw-go,
Mon frere Camille.
But de State she was n`t de only place
He visit all up an` down,
For he`s goin` Cu-baw an` de Mex-i-co,
W`ere he `s killin` two honder dem wil` taureau,
W`at you call de bull: on de circus show,
O! if you believe heem he travel roun`.
Mon frere Camille.
So of course w`en ma broder was gettin` home
All de peop` on de parish come
Every night on de parlor for hear heem tell
How he foller de brave General Roosvel`
W`en rough rider feller dey fight lak hell
An` he walk on de front wit` great beg
drum,
Mon frere Camille.
An` how is he gainin` dat diamon` ring?
Way off on de Mex-i-co
W`ere he `s pilin` de bull wan summer day
Till it `s not easy haulin` dem all away,
An` de lady dey `re t`rowin` heem large
bouquet
For dey lak de style he was keel taureau,
Mon frere Camille.
Wall! he talk dat way all de winter t`roo,
An` hees frien` dey was tryin` fin`
Some bull on de country dat `s wil` enough
For mon frere camille, but it `s purty tough
`Cos de farmer `s not raisin` such fightin` stuff
An` he don`t want not`ing but mos` worse
kin`
Mon frere Camille.
Dat `d not pleasan` t`ing mebbe los` hees trade,
If we don`t hurry up, for sure,
I s`pose you t`ink I was goin` it strong?
Never min` , somet`ing happen `fore very long
It `ll all come out on dis leetle song
W`en he pass on de house of Ma-dame
Latour
Camille, mon frere.
We `re makin` pique-nique on Denise Latour
For helpin` put in de hay
Too bad she `s de moder large familee
An` los` de bes` husban` she never see
W`en he drown on de reever, poor Jeremie,
So he come wit` de res` of de gang dat day,
Camille, mon frere.
An` affer de hay it was put away
Don`t tak` very long at all,
De boy an` de girl she was lookin` `roun
For havin` more fun `fore dey lef` de groun`
An` dey see leetle bull, mebbe t`ree honder
poun`
An` nex` t`ing I hear dem call
Mon frere Camille.
So nice leetle feller I never see
Dat bull of Ma-dame Latour
Wit` curly hair on de front hees head
An` quiet? jus` sam` he was almos` dead
An` fat? wall! de chil`ren dey see heem fed
So he `s not goin` keel heem I `m very sure,
Mon frere Camille.
But de girl kip teasin` an` ole Ma-dame
She say, "You can go ahead
He cos` me four dollarre six mont` ago
So if anyt`ing happen ma small taureau,
Who `s pay me dat monee I lak to know?"
An` he answer, "Dat `s me w`en I keel
heem dead"
Mon frere Camille.
Den he feex beeg knife on de twelve foot pole,
So de chil`ren commence to cry
An` he jomp on de fence, an` yell, "Hooraw"
An` shout on de leetle French bull, "Dis donc!
Ain`t you scare w`en you see feller from Cu-
baw?"
An` he show heem hees red necktie,
Mon frere Camille.
L`petit taureau w`en he see dat tie
He holler for half a mile
Den he jomp on de leg an` he raise de row
Ba Golly! I`m sure I can see heem now.
An` dey run w`en dey hear heem, de noder
cow
Den he say, "Dat bull must be surely wil`"
Mon frere Camille.
But de bull don`t care w`at he say at all,
For he `s watchin` dat red necktie
An` w`en ma broder he push de pole
I `m sure it `s makin` some purty large hole,
If de bull be dere, but ma blood run col`
For de nex` t`ing I hear heem cry,
Camille, mon frere.
No wonder he cry, for dat sapree bull
He `s yell leetle bit some more,
Den he ketch ma broder dat small taureau
Only cos` four dollarre six mont` ago
An` he `s t`rowin` heem up from de groun`
below
Wan tam, two tam, till he `s feelin` sore,
Camille, mon frere.
An` w`en ma broder `s come down agen
I s`pose he mus` change hees min`
An` mebbe t`ink if it `s all de sam`
He `ll keel dat bull w`en he get more tam
For dere he was runnin` wit` ole Ma-dame
De chil`ren, de bull, an` de cow behin`
Camille, mon frere.
So dat`s de reason he `s firse class blood
W`en he come off de State las` fall
Wearin` hees boot a la mode bo toe
An` diamon` pin on hees shirt also
Sam` as dem feller on Chi-caw-go
But now he `s no blood at all,
Camille, mon frere.
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