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William Henry Drummond - Pro Patria
Work rating: Low

Was leevin` across on de State Vermont;
    W`ere mountain so high you see--
  Got plaintee to do, so all I want
    Is jus` to be quiet--me--
  No bodder, no fuss, only work aroun`
    On job I don`t lak refuse--
  But affer de familee settle down
    It’s come w`at dey call war-news.

  De Spanish da-go he was gettin` mad,
    An` he’s dangerous l`Espagnol!
  An` ev`ry wan say it was lookin` bad,
    Not safe on de State at all--
  So Yankee he’s tryin` for sell hees farm,
    An` town’s very moche excite,
  Feexin` de gun an` de fire-alarm,
    An` ban` playin` ev`ry night.

  An` soon dere’s comin`, all dress to kill,
    Beeg feller from far away,
  Shoutin` lak devil on top de hill,
    An` dis is de t`ing he say--

  "Strike for your home an` your own contree!
  Strike for your native lan`!
  Kip workin` away wit` de spade an` hoe,
  Den jump w`en you hear de bugle blow,
  For danger’s aroun`, above, below,
  But de bugle will tell if it’s tam to go."

  An` he tak` de flag wit` de star an` stripe,
    An` holler out--"Look at me!
  If any wan touch dat flag, bâ cripe!
    He’s dead about wan--two--t`ree."
  Den he pull it aroun` heem few more tam,
    An` sit on de rockin` chair,
  Till somebody cheer for hees Uncle Sam,
    Dough I don`t see de ole man dere.

  I got a long story for tell dat night
    On poor leetle Rose Elmire,
  An` she say she’s sorry about de fight
    We’re doin` so well down here--
  But it’s not our fault an` we can`t help dat,
    De law she is made for all,
  So our duty is wait for de rat-tat-tat
    Of drum an` de bugle call.

  An` it’s busy week for Elmire an` me,
    I’m sure you `d pity us too--
  Workin` so hard lak you never see,
    For dere’s plaintee o` job to do--
  Den half o` de night packin` up de stuff
    We got on de small cabane--
  An` buyin` a horse, dough he cos` enough,
    For Yankee’s a hard trade man.

  An` how can I sleep if ma wife yell out--
    "Gédéon, dere she goes!"
  An` bang an` tear all de house about
    W`en Johnnie is blow hees nose?
  Poor leetle chil`ren dey suffer too,
    Lyin` upon de floor,
  Wit` de bed made up, for dey never go
    On de worl` lak dat before.

  We got to be ready, of course, an` wait--
    De chil`ren, de wife, an` me,
  For show de Yankee upon de State,
    Ba Golly! how smart we be.
  You know de game dey call checker-boar`?
    Wall! me an` ma wife Elmire,
  We’re playin` dat game on de outside door
    Wit` leetle wan gader near;

  Jus` as de sun on de sky go down
    An` mountain dey seem so fine,
  Ev`ryt`ing quiet, don`t hear a soun`,
    So I’m lookin` across de line.
  An` I t`ink of de tam I be leevin` dere
    On county of Yamachiche,
  De swamp on de bush w`ere I ketch de hare
    De reever I use to feesh.

  An` ma wife Elmire w`en she see de tear,
    She cry leetle bit herse`f--
  Put her han` on ma neck, an` say, "Ma dear,
    I’m sorry we never lef`;
  But money’s good t`ing, an` dere’s nice folk too,
    Leevin` upon Vermont--
  Got plaintee o` work for me an` you--
    Is dere anyt`ing more we want?

  Dere’s w`at dey `re callin` de war beez-nesse--
    It’s troublesome t`ing, of course,
  But no gettin` off--mus` strike wit` de res`,
    No matter--it might be worse--
  We’re savin` along--never lose a day,
    An` ready w`en bugle blow--"
  But dat was de very las` word she say,
    For dere it commence to go,

  Blowin` away on de mountain dere,
    W`ere snow very seldom melts,
  Down by de reever an` ev`ryw`ere,
    We could n`t hear not`ing else--
  Nobody stop to fin` out de place,
    Too busy for dat to-day--
  But we never forget de law in de case
    W`en feller he spik dis way--

  "Strike for your home an` your own contree!
  Strike for your native lan`!
  Kip workin` away wit` de spade an` hoe,
  Den jump w`en you hear de bugle blow,
  For danger’s aroun`, above, below,
  But de bugle will tell if it’s tam to go."

  An` de chil`ren yell, an` de checker-boar`
    Don`t do her no good at all--
  An` nobody never jump before
    Lak de crowd w`en dey hear de call,
  Dat was de familee,--bet your life
    I’m prouder, bâ Gosh! to-day
  Mese`f, de leetle wan, an` de wife,
    Dan anyt`ing I can say--

  `Cos nobody strike on de way we do--
    For home an` deir own contree--
  Wit` fedder bed, stove, de cradle too,
    An` ev`ryt`ing else we see--
  Pilin` de wagon up ten foot high
    Goin` along de road--
  An` de Yankee say as we’re passin` by
    Dey never see such a load--

  So dat’s how we’re comin` to Yamachiche--
    An` dat’s w`y we’re stayin` here--
  Jus` to be quiet an` hunt an` feesh,
    Not`ing at all to fear--
  An` if ever you lissen de Yankee folk
    Brag an` kick up de fuss--
  An` say we’re lak cattle upon de yoke,
    An` away dey can trot from us--


  Jus` tell dem de news of Gédéon Plouffe--
    How he jump wit` de familee
  An` strike w`en de bugle is raise de roof
    For home an` hees own contree.
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