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William Henry Drummond - De Papineau Gun
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AN INCIDENT OF THE CANADIAN REBELLION OF 1837.


Bon jour, M`sieu`--you want to know
  `Bout dat ole gun--w`at good she`s for?
W`y! Jean Bateese Bruneau--mon pere,
  Fight wit` dat gun on Pap`neau War!

Long tam since den you say--C`est vrai,
  An` me too young for `member well,
But how de patriot fight an` die,
  I offen hear de ole folk tell.

De English don`t ack square dat tam,
  Don`t geev de habitants no show,
So `long come Wolfred Nelson
  Wit` Louis Joseph Papineau.

An` swear de peep mus` have deir right.
  Wolfred he`s write Victoriaw,
But she`s no good, so den de war
  Commence among de habitants.

Mon pere he leev to Grande Brulé  So smarter man you never see,
Was alway on de grande hooraw!
  Plaintee w`at you call "Esprit!"

An` w`en dey form wan compagnie
  All dress wit` tuque an` ceinture sash
Ma fader tak` hees gun wit` heem
  An` marche away to Saint Eustache,

W`ere many patriots was camp
  Wit` brave Chenier, deir Capitaine,
W`en `long come English Generale,
  An` more two t`ousan` sojer man.

De patriot dey go on church
  An` feex her up deir possibill;
Dey fight deir bes`, but soon fin` out
  "Canon de bois" no good for kill.

An` den de church she come on fire,
  An` burn almos` down to de groun`,
So w`at you t`ink our man can do
  Wit` all dem English armee roun`?

`Poleon, hees sojer never fight
  More brave as dem poor habitants,
Chenier, he try for broke de rank
  Chenier come dead immediatement.

He fall near w`ere de cross is stan`
  Upon de ole church cimitiere,
Wit` Jean Poulin an` Laframboise
  An` plaintee more young feller dere.

De gun dey rattle lak` tonnere
  Jus` bang, bang, bang! dat`s way she go,
An` wan by wan de brave man`s fall
  An` red blood`s cover all de snow.

Ma fader shoot so long he can
  An` den he`s load hees gun some more,
Jomp on de ice behin` de church
  An` pass heem on de `noder shore.

Wall! he reach home fore very long
  An` keep perdu for many day,
Till ev`ry t`ing she come tranquille,
  An` sojer man all gone away.

An` affer dat we get our right,
  De Canayens don`t fight no more,
Ma fader`s never shoot dat gun,
  But place her up above de door.

An` Papineau, an` Nelson too
  Dey`re gone long tam, but we are free,
Le Bon Dieu have `em `way up dere.
  Salut, Wolfred! Salut, Louis!
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