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William Henry Drummond - Getting Stout
Work rating: Low

Eighteen, an` face lak de--w`at’s de good?
    Dere’s no use tryin` explain
  De way she’s lookin`, dat girl Marie--
    But affer it pass, de rain,
  An` sun come out of de cloud behin`,
    An` laugh on de sky wance more--
  Wall! dat is de way her eye it shine
    W`en she see me upon de door.

  An` dere she’s workin` de ole-tam sash,
    De fines` wan, too, for sure.
  "Who is it for, ma belle Marie--
    You `re makin` de nice ceinture?
  Come out an` sit on de shore below,
    For watchin` dem draw de net,
  Ketchin` de feesh," an` she answer, "No,
    De job is n`t finish yet;

  "Stan` up, Narcisse, an` we’ll see de fit.
    Dat sash it was mak` for you,
  For de ole wan’s gettin` on, you know,
    An` o` course it `ll never do
  If de boy I marry can`t go an` spen`
    W`at dey `re callin` de weddin` tour
  Wit` me, for visitin` all hees frien`,
    An` not have a nice ceinture."

  An` den she measure dat sash on me,
    An` I fin` it so long an` wide
  I pass it aroun` her, an` dere we stan`,
    De two of us bote inside--
  "Could n`t be better, ma chère Marie,
    Dat sash it is fit so well--
  It jus` suit you, an` it jus` suit me,
    An` bote togeder, ma belle."

  So I wear it off on de weddin` tour
    An` long after dat also,
  An` never a minute I’m carin` how
    De win` of de winter blow--
  Don`t matter de cole an` frosty night--
    Don`t matter de stormy day,
  So long as I’m feex up close an` tight
    Wit` de ole ceinture fleché.

  An` w`ere’s de woman can beat her now,
    Ma own leetle girl Marie?
  For we’re marry to-day jus` feefty year
    An` never a change I see--
  But wan t`ing strange, dough I try ma bes`
    For measure dat girl wance more,
  She say--"Go off wit` de foolishness,
    Or pass on de outside door.

  "You know well enough dat sash get tight
    Out on de snow an` wet
  Drivin` along on ev`ry place,
    Den how can it fit me yet?
  Shows w`at a fool you be, Narcisse,
    W`enever you go to town;
  Better look out, or I call de pries`
    For makin` you stan` aroun`."

  But me, I’m sure it was never change,
    Dat sash on de feefty year--
  An` I can`t understan` to-day at all,
    W`at’s makin` it seem so queer--
  De sash is de sam`, an` woman too,
    Can`t fool me, I know too well--
  But woman, of course dey offen do
    Some funny t`ing--you can`t tell!
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