William Henry Drummond - De Camp On De "Cheval Gris"William Henry Drummond - De Camp On De "Cheval Gris"
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You `member de ole log-camp, Johnnie, up on de Cheval Gris,
W`ere we work so hard all winter, long ago you an` me?
Dere was fourteen man on de gang, den, all from our own paroisse,
An` only wan lef` dem feller is ourse`f an` Pierre Laframboise.
But Pierre can`t see on de eye, Johnnie, I t`ink it`s no good at all!
An` it wasn`t for not`ing, you`re gettin` rheumateez on de leg las` fall!
I t`ink it`s no use waitin`, for neider can come wit` me,
So alone I mak` leetle visit dat camp on de Cheval Gris.
An` if only you see it, Johnnie, an` change dere was all aroun`,
Ev`ryt`ing gone but de timber an` dat is all fallin` down;
No sign of portage by de reever w`ere man dey was place canoe,
W`y, Johnnie, I`m cry lak de bebé, an` I`m glad you don`t come, mon vieux!
But strange t`ing`s happen me dere, Johnnie, mebbe I go asleep,
As I lissen de song of de rapide, as pas` de Longue Soo she sweep,
Ma head she go biz-z-z lak de sawmeel, I don`t know w`at`s wrong wit` me,
But firs` t`ing I don`t know not`ing, an` den w`at you t`ink I see?
Yourse`f an` res` of de boy, Johnnie, by light of de coal oil lamp,
An` you`re singin` an` tolin` story, sittin` aroun` de camp,
We hear de win` on de chimley, an` we know it was beeg, beeg storm,
But ole box stove she is roarin`, an` camp`s feelin` nice an` warm.
I t`ink you`re on boar` of de raf`, Johnnie, near head of Riviere du Loup,
W`en LeRoy an` young Patsy Kelly get drown comin` down de Soo,
Wall! I see me dem very same feller, jus` lak you see me to-day,
Playin` dat game dey call checker, de game dey was play alway!
An` Louis Charette asleep, Johnnie, wit` hees back up agen de wall,
Makin` soche noise wit` hees nose, dat you t`ink it was moose on de fall,
I s`pose he`s de mos` fattes` man dere `cept mebbe Bateese La Rue,
But if I mak fonne on poor Louis, I know he was good boy too!
W`at you do over dere on your bunk, Johnnie, lightin` dem allumettes,
Are you shame `cos de girl she write you, is dat de las` wan you get?
It`s fonny you can`t do widout it ev`ry tam you was goin` bed,
W`y readin` dat letter so offen, you mus have it all on de head!
Dat`s de very sam` letter, Johnnie, was comin` t`ree mont` ago,
I t`ink I know somet`ing about it, `cos I fin` it wan day on de snow.
An` I see on de foot dat letter, Philomene she is do lak dis: * * *
I`m not very moche on de school, me, but I t`ink dat was mean de kiss.
Wall! nobody`s kickin` de row, Johnnie, an` if allumettes` fini,
Put Philomene off on your pocket, an` sing leetle song wit` me;
For don`t matter de hard you be workin` toujours you`re un bon garçon,
An` nobody sing lak our Johnnie, Kebeck to de Mattawa!
An` it`s den you be let her go, Johnnie, till roof she was mos` cave in,
An` if dere`s firs` prize on de singin`, Bagosh! you`re de man can win!
Affer dat come fidelle of Joe Pilon, an` he`s feller can make it play,
So we`re clearin` de floor right off den, for have leetle small danser.
An` w`en dance she was tout finis, Johnnie, I go de sam` bunk wit` you
W`ere we sleep lak two broder, an` dream of de girl on Riviere du Loup,
Very nice ontil somebody call me, it soun` lak de boss Pelang,
"Leve toi, Jeremie ma young feller, or else you`ll be late on de gang."
An` den I am wak` up, Johnnie, an` w`ere do you t`ink I be?
Dere was de wood an` mountain, dere was de Cheval Gris,
But w`ere is de boy an` musique I hear only w`ile ago?
Gone lak de flower las` summer, gone lak de winter snow!
An` de young man was bring me up, Johnnie, dat`s son of ma boy Maxime,
Say, "Gran`fader, w`at is de matter, you havin` de bad, bad dream?
Come look on your face on de well dere, it`s w`ite lak I never see,
Mebbe `t was better you`re stayin`, an` not go along wit` me."
An` w`en I look down de well, Johnnie, an` see de ole feller dere,
I say on mese`f "you be makin` fou Jeremie Chateauvert,
For t`ink you`re garçon agen. Ha! ha! jus` `cos you are close de eye,
An` only commence for leevin` w`en you`re ready almos` for die!"
Ah! dat`s how de young day pass, Johnnie, purty moche lak de t`ing I see,
Sometam dey be las` leetle longer, sam` as wit` you an` me,
But no matter de ole we`re leevin`, de tam she must come some day,
W`en boss on de place above, Johnnie, he`s callin` us all away.
I`m glad I was go on de camp, Johnnie, I t`ink it will do me good,
Mebbe it`s las` tam too, for sure, I`ll never pass on de wood,
For I don`t expec` moche longer ole Jeremie will be lef`,
But about w`at I see dat day, Johnnie, tole nobody but yourse`f.
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