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William Henry Drummond - The Hill Of San Sebastian
Work rating: Medium

I ought to feel more satisfy an` happy dan
   I be,
 For better husban` dan ma own, it `s very
   hard to fin`
An` plaintee woman if dey got such boy an` 
   girl as me
 Would never have no troub` at all, an` 
   not`ing on deir min`
But w`ile dey`re alway wit` me, an` dough I
   love dem all
  I can`t help t`inkin`  w`en I watch de chil`ren
   out at play
 Of tam I`m jus` lak dat mese`f, an` den de 
   tear will fall
 For de hill of St. Sebastien is very far away!

It seem so pleasan` w`en I come off here ten
   year ago
 An` hardes` work I `m gettin` den, was never
   heavy load,
De roughes` place is smoot` enough, de
   quickes` gait is slow
 For glad I am to foller w`ere Louis lead de
   road
But somet`ing `s comin` over me, I feel it
   more an` more
 It `s alway pullin` on de heart, an` stronger
   ev`ry day,
An` O! I long to see again de reever an` de 
   shore
 W`ere de hill of St. Sebastien is lookin` on
   de bay!

I use to t`ink it `s fine t`ing once, to stan` upon
   de door
 An` see de great beeg medder dere,  stretchin`
   far an` wide,
An` smell de pleasan` flower dat grow lak star
   on de prairie floor,
 An` watch de spotted antelope was feedin` 
   ev`ry side,
How did we gain it, man an` wife, dis lan` was
   no man `s lan`?
 By rifle, an` harrow an` plow, shovel an` 
   spade an` hoe
De blessin` of good God up above, an` work of
   our own strong han`
 Till it stan` on de middle, our leetle nes`,
   w`ere de wheat an` cornfiel` grow.

An` soon de chil`ren fill de house, wit` musique
   all day long,
 De sam` ma moder use to sing on de cradle
   over me,
I`m almos` sorry it `s be my fault dey learn
   dem ole tam song
 W`at good is it tak` me off lak dat back on
   ma own countree?
 Till de reever once more I see again, an` lissen
   it `s current flow
 An` dere`s Hercule de ferry man cmoin`
   across de bay!
Wat` s use of foolin` me lak dat? for surely I
   mus` know
 de hill of St. Sebastien is very far away!

W`en Louis ketch me dat summer night
   watchin` de sky above,
 Seein` de mountain an` de lake, wit` small
   boat sailin` roun`
He kiss me an` say - "Toinette, I`m glad dis
   prairie lan` you love
 For travel de far you can, ma belle, it `s
   fine `s on top de groun`!"
Jus` w`en I `m lookin` dat beeg cloud too,
   standin` dere lak a wall!
 Sam` as de hill I know so well, home on ma
   own countree.

Good job I was cryin` quiet den, an` Louis
   can`t hear at all
 But I kiss de poor feller an` laugh, an` never
   say not`ing—me.

W`at can you do wit` man lak dat, an` w`y am
   I bodder so?
 De firse t`ing he might fin` it out, den hees
   heart will feel it sore
An` if he say "Come home Toinette," I `m
   sure I mus` answer "No",
 For if I `m seein` dat place again, I never
   return no more!
So let de heart break—I don`t care, I won`t
   say not`ing—me—
 I`ll mak` dat promise on mese`f, an` kip it
    night an` day
But O! Mon Dieu!  how glad, how glad, an` 
   happy I could be
 If de hill of St. Sebastien was not so far
   away!
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