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William Henry Drummond - `Poleon Dore
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A TALE OF THE SAINT MAURICE.


You have never hear de story of de young Napoleon Doré?  Los` hees life upon de reever w`en de lumber drive go down?
W`ere de rapide roar lak tonder, dat`s de place he`s goin` onder,
  W`en he`s try save Paul Desjardins, `Poleon hese`f is drown.

All de winter on de Shaintee, tam she`s good, and work she`s plaintee,
  But we`re not feel very sorry, w`en de sun is warm hees face,
W`en de mooshrat an` de beaver, tak` some leetle swim on reever,
  An` de sout` win` scare de snowbird, so she fly some col`er place.

Den de spring is set in steady, an` we get de log all ready,
  Workin` hard all day an` night too, on de water mos` de tam,
An` de skeeter w`en dey fin` us, come so quickly nearly blin` us,
  Biz--biz--biz--biz--all aroun` us till we feel lak sacrédam.

All de sam` we`re hooraw feller, from de top of house to cellar,
  Ev`ry boy he`s feel so happy, w`en he`s goin` right away,
See hees fader an` hees moder, see hees sister an` hees broder,
  An` de girl he spark las` summer, if she`s not get marieé.
Wall we start heem out wan morning, an` de pilot geev us warning,
  "W`en you come on Rapide Cuisse, ma frien`, keep raf` she`s head on shore,
If you struck beeg rock on middle, w`ere le diable is play hees fiddle,
  Dat`s de tam you pass on some place, you don`t never pass before."

But we`ll not t`ink moche of danger, for de rapide she`s no stranger
  Many tam we`re runnin` t`roo it, on de fall an` on de spring,
On mos` ev`ry kin` of wedder dat le Bon Dieu scrape togedder,
  An` we`ll never drown noboddy, an` we`ll never bus` somet`ing.

Dere was Telesphore Montbriand, Paul Desjardins, Louis Guyon,
  Bill McKeever, Aleck Gauthier, an` hees cousin Jean Bateese,
`Poleon Doré, Aimé Beaulieu, wit` some more man I can`t tole you,
  Dat was mak` it bes` gang never run upon de St. Maurice.

Dis is jus` de tam I wish me, I could spik de good English--me--
  For tole you of de pleasurement we get upon de spring,
W`en de win` she`s all a sleepin`, an` de raf` she go a sweepin`
  Down de reever on some morning, w`ile le rossignol is sing.

Ev`ryt`ing so nice an` quiet on de shore as we pass by it,
  All de tree got fine new spring suit, ev`ry wan she`s dress on green
W`y it mak` us all more younger, an` we don`t feel any hunger,
  Till de cook say "`Raw for breakfas`," den we smell de pork an` bean.

Some folk say she`s bad for leever, but for man work hard on reever,
  Dat`s de bes` t`ing I can tole you, dat was never yet be seen,
Course dere`s oder t`ing ah tak` me, fancy dish also I lak me,
  But w`en I want somet`ing solid, please pass me de pork an` bean.

All dis tam de raf` she`s goin` lak steamboat was got us towin`
  All we do is keep de channel, an` dat`s easy workin` dere,
So we sing some song an` chorus, for de good tam dat`s before us,
  W`en de w`ole beez-nesse she`s finish, an` we come on Trois Rivieres.

But bad luck is sometam fetch us, for beeg strong win` come an` ketch us,
  Jus` so soon we struck de rapide--jus` so soon we see de smoke,
An` before we spik some prayer for ourse`f dat`s fightin` dere,
  Roun` we come upon de beeg rock, an` it`s den de raf` she broke.

Dat was tam poor Paul Desjardins, from de parish of St. Germain,
  He was long way on de fronte side, so he`s fallin` overboar`
Couldn`t swim at all de man say, but dat`s more ma frien`, I can say,
  Any how he`s look lak drownin`, so we`ll t`row him two t`ree oar.

Dat`s `bout all de help our man do, dat`s `bout ev`ryt`ing we can do,
  As de crib we`re hangin` onto balance on de rock itse`f,
Till de young Napoleon Doré, heem I start for tole de story,
  Holler out, "Mon Dieu, I don`t lak see poor Paul go drown hese`f."

So he`s mak` beeg jomp on water, jus` de sam you see some otter
  An` he`s pass on place w`ere Paul is tryin` hard for keep afloat,
Den we see Napoleon ketch heem, try hees possibill for fetch heem
  But de current she`s more stronger, an` de eddy get dem bote.

O Mon Dieu! for see dem two man, mak` me feel it cry lak woman,
  Roun` an` roun` upon de eddy, quickly dem poor feller go,
Can`t tole wan man from de oder, an` we`ll know dem bote lak broder,
  But de fight she soon is finish--Paul an` `Poleon go below.

Yass, an` all de tam we stay dere, only t`ing we do is pray dere,
  For de soul poor drownin` feller, dat`s enough mak` us feel mad,
Torteen voyageurs, all brave man, glad get any chances save man,
  But we don`t see no good chances, can`t do not`ing, dat`s too bad.

Wall! at las` de crib she`s come way off de rock, an` den on some way,
  By an` by de w`ole gang`s passin` on safe place below de Cuisse,
Ev`ryboddy`s heart she`s breakin`, w`en dey see poor Paul he`s taken
  Wit` de young Napoleon Doré, bes` boy on de St. Maurice!

An` day affer, Bill McKeever fin` de bote man on de reever,
  Wit` deir arm aroun` each oder, mebbe pass above dat way--
So we bury dem as we fin` dem, w`ere de pine tree wave behin` dem
  An de Grande Montagne he`s lookin` down on Marcheterre Bay.

You can`t hear no church bell ring dere, but le rossignol is sing dere,
  An` w`ere ole red cross she`s stannin`, mebbe some good ange gardien,
Watch de place w`ere bote man sleepin`, keep de reever grass from creepin`
  On de grave of `Poleon Doré, an` of poor Paul Desjardins.
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