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William Henry Drummond - The Devil
Work rating: Low

Along de road from Bord à Plouffe
    To Kaz-a-baz-u-a
  W`ere poplar trees lak sojers stan`,
  An` all de lan` is pleasan` lan`,
  In off de road dere leev`s a man
    Call Louis Desjardins.

  An` Louis, w`en he firse begin
    To work hees leetle place,
  He work so hard de neighbors say,
  "Unless he tak`s de easy way
  Dat feller’s sure to die some day,
    We see it on hees face."

  `T was lak a swamp, de farm he got,
    De water ev`ryw`ere--
  Might drain her off as tight as a drum.
  An` back dat water is boun` to come
  In less `n a day or two--ba Gum!
    `T would mak` de angel swear.

  So Louis t`ink of de bimeby,
    If he leev` so long as dat,
  W`en he’s ole an` blin` an` mebbe deaf,
  All alone on de house hese`f,
  No frien`, no money, no not`ing lef`,
    An` poor--can`t kip a cat.

  So wan of de night on winter tam,
    W`en Louis is on hees bed,
  He say out loud lak a crazy man,
  "I’m sick of tryin` to clear dis lan`,
  Work any harder I can`t stan`,
    Or it will kill me dead.

  "Now if de devil would show hese`f
    An` say to me, `Tiens! Louis!
  Hard tam an` work she’s at an` en`,
  You’ll leev` lak a Grand Seigneur ma frien`,
  If only you’ll be ready w`en
    I want you to come wit` me.`

  "I `d say, `Yass, yass--`maudit! w`at’s dat?`
    An` he see de devil dere--
  Brimstone, ev`ryt`ing bad dat smell,
  You know right away he’s come from--well,
  De place I never was care to tell--
    An` wearin` hees long black hair,

  Lak election man, de kin` I mean
    You see aroun` church door,
  Spreadin` hese`f on great beeg speech
  `Bout poor man’s goin` some day be reech,
  But dat’s w`ere it alway come de heetch,
    For poor man’s alway poor.

  De only diff`rence--me--I see
    `Tween devil an` long-hair man
  It’s hard to say, but I know it’s true,
  W`en devil promise a t`ing to do
  Dere’s no mistak`, he kip it too--
    I hope you understan`.

  So de devil spik, "You `re not content,
    An` want to be reech, Louis--
  All right, you’ll have plaintee, never fear,
  No wan can beat you far an` near,
  An` I’ll leave you alone for t`orty year,
    An` den you will come wit` me.

  "Be careful now--it’s beeg contrac`,
    So mebbe it’s bes` go slow;
  For me--de promise I mak` to you
  Is good as de bank Rivière du Loup
  For you--w`enever de tam is due,
    Ba tonder! you got to go."

  Louis try hard to tak` hees tam
    But w`en he see de fall
  Comin` along in a week or so,
  All aroun` heem de rain an` snow
  An` pork on de bar`l runnin` low,
    He don`t feel good at all.

  An` w`en he t`ink of de swampy farm
    An` gettin` up winter night,
  Watchin` de stove if de win` get higher
  For fear de chimley go on fire,
  It`s makin` poor Louis feel so tire
    He tell de devil, "All right."

  "Correct," dat feller say right away,
    "I’ll only say, Au revoir,"
  An` out of de winder he’s goin` pouf!
  Beeg nose, long hair, short tail, an` hoof,
  Off on de road to Bord à Plouffe
    Crossin` de reever dere.

  W`en Louis get up nex` day, ma frien`,
    Dere’s lot of devil sign--
  Bar`l o` pork an` keg o` rye,
  Bag o` potato ten foot high,
  Pile o` wood nearly touch de sky,
    Was some o` de t`ing he fin`.

  Suit o` clothes would have cos` a lot
    An` ev`ryt`ing I dunno,
  Trotter horse w`en he want to ride
  Eatin` away on de barn outside,
  Stan` all day if he’s never tied,
    An` watch an` chain also.

  An` swamp dat`s bodder heem many tam,
    W`ere is dat swamp to-day?
  Don`t care if you `re huntin` up an` down
  You won`t fin` not`ing but medder groun`,
  An` affer de summer come aroun`
    W`ere can you see such hay?

  Wall! de year go by, an` Louis leev`
    Widout no work to do,
  Rise w`en he lak on winter day,
  Fin` all de snow is clear away,
  No fuss, no not`ing, dere’s de sleigh
    An` trotter waitin` too.

  W`en t`orty year is nearly t`roo
    An` devil’s not come back
  `Course Louis say, `Wall! he forget
  Or t`ink de tam’s not finish yet;
  I’ll tak` ma chance an` never fret,"
    But dat’s w`ere he mak` mistak`.

  For on a dark an` stormy night
    W`en Louis is sittin` dere,
  After he fassen up de door
  De devil come as he come before,
  Lookin` de sam` only leetle more,
    For takin` heem--you know w`ere.

  "Asseyez vous, sit down, ma frien`,
    Bad night be on de road;
  You come long way an` should be tire--
  Jus` wait an` mebbe I feex de fire--
  Tak` off your clothes for mak` dem drier,
    Dey mus` be heavy load."

  Dat’s how poor Louis Desjardins
    Talk to de devil, sir--
  Den say, "Try leetle w`isky blanc,
  Dey `re makin` it back on St. Laurent--
  It’s good for night dat’s cole an` raw,"
    But devil never stir,

  Until he smell de smell dat come
    W`en Louis mak` it hot
  Wit` sugar, spice, an` ev`ryt`ing.
  Enough to mak` a man`s head sing--
  For winter, summer, fall an` spring--
    It’s very bes` t`ing we got.

  An` so de devil can`t refuse
    To try de w`isky blanc,
  An` say, "I’m tryin` many drink,
  An` dis is de fines` I don`t t`ink,
  De firse, ba tonder! mak` me wink--
    Hooraw, pour Canadaw!"

  "Merci--non, non--I tak` no more,"
    De devil say at las`,
  "For tam is up wit` you, Louis,
  So come along, ma frien`, wit` me,
  So many star I’m sure I see,
    De storm she mus` be pas`."

  "No hurry--wait a minute, please,"
    Say Louis Desjardins,
  "We’ll have a smoke before we’re t`roo,
  `T will never hurt mese`f or you
  To try a pipe, or mebbe two,
    Of tabac Canayen." 

  "Wan pipe is all I want for me--
    We’ll finish our smoke downstair,"
  De devil say, an` it was enough,
  For w`en he tak` de very firse puff
  He holler out, "Maudit! w`at stuff!
    Fresh air! fresh air!! fresh air!!!"

  An` oh! he was never sick before
    Till he smoke tabac Bruneau--
  Can`t walk or fly, but he want fresh air,
  So Louis put heem on rockin` chair
  An` t`row heem off on de road out dere--
    An` tole heem go below.

  An` he shut de door an` fill de place
    Wit` tabac Canayen,
  An` never come out, an` dat’s a fac`--
  But smoke away till hees face is black--
  So dat’s w`y de devil don`t come back
    For Louis Desjardins.

  An` dere he’s yet, an` dere he’ll stay--
    So weech of de two `ll win
  Can`t say for dat--it’s kin` of a doubt,
  For Louis, de pipe never leave hees mout`,
  An` night or day can`t ketch heem out,
    An` devil’s too scare go in.
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