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William Henry Drummond - Poirier`s Rooster
Work rating: Low

"W`at`s dat? de ole man gone, you say?
    Wall! Wall! he mus` be sick,
  For w`en he pass de oder day,
    He walk along widout de stick,
  Lak twenty year or so--
  Fine healt`y man, ole Telesphore,
  I never see heem sick before,
  Some rheumateez, but not`ing more--
          Please tell me how he go."

  You `re right, no common t`ing for sure
    Is kill heem lak de res`;
  No sir! de man was voyageur
    Upon de Grande Nor` Wes`
  Until he settle here
  Is not de feller’s goin` die
  Before he’s ready by an` bye,
  So if you want de reason w`y
          I’ll tell you, never fear.

  You know how moche he lak to spik
    An` tole us ev`ryt`ing about
  De way de French can alway lick
    An` pull de w`ole worl` inside out,
  Poor Telesphore Cadotte!
  He’s knowin` all de victory,
  An` braves` t`ing was never be,
  To hear heem talk, it’s easy see
          He’s firse-class patriot.

  Hees leetle shoe store ev`ry night
    Can hardly hol` de crowd of folk
  Dat come to lissen on de fight,
    An` w`en you see de pile of smoke
  An` hear ole Telesphore
  Hammer de boot upon hees knee,
  You t`ink of course of Chateauguay,
  An` feel dat’s two, t`ree enemy
          Don`t bodder us no more.

  But oh! dat evening w`en he sen`
    De call aroun` for come en masse,
  An` den he say, "Ma dear ole frien`,
    Dere’s somet`ing funny come to pass,
  I lak you all to hear--
  You know dat Waterloo affair?
  H-s-s-h! don`t get excite, you was n`t dere--
  All quiet?  Wall!  I’ll mak` it square,
          So lissen on your ear.

  "I’m readin` on de book to-day
    (Some book, dey say, was guarantee),
  An` half a dollar too I pay,
    But cheap, because it’s tellin` me
  De t`ing I’m glad to know--
  Of course de w`ole worl` understan`
  Napoleon fight de bes` he can,
  But he’s not French at all, dat man,
          But leetle small Da-go.

  "Anoder t`ing was mak` it show
    Dere’s not`ing new below de sun,
  Is w`en I’m findin` as I go--
    Dat feller dey call Welling-ton,
  He’s English?  No siree!
  But only maudit Irlandais!
  (Dat’s right! dey `re alway in de way,
  Dem Irish folk), an` so I say
          I’m satisfy for me.

  "It’s not our fault, dat’s all explain--
    Dere’s no use talk of Waterloo,
  Not our affair--" an` off again
    He hammer, hammer on de shoe,
  An` don`t say not`ing more,
  But w`issle "Madame Isabeau,"
  Good news lak dat is cheer heem so--
  Den tak` a drink before we go,
          De poor ole Telesphore!

  An` now he’s gone!  Wall!  I dunno,
    Can`t say--he’s better off meb-be,
  Don`t work so hard on w`ere he go--
    Dat’s wan t`ing sure I’m t`inkin`--me--
  Unless he los` hees track.
  But w`en dat boy come runnin` in
  De leetle shop, an` start begin
  On Poirier`s rooster, how he win--
          I lak to break hees back.

  Poor Telesphore was tellin` how
    Joe Monferrand can`t go to sleep,
  Until he’s kickin` up de row,
    Den pile dem nearly ten foot deep,
  Dem English sojer man--
  Can`t blame de crowd dey all hooraw,
  For bes` man on de Ottawaw,
  An` geev` t`ree cheer for Canadaw,
          De very bes` dey can.

  An` Telesphore again he start
    For tell de story leetle more,
  Anoder wan before we part,
    W`en bang! a small boy t`roo de door
  On w`at you call "full pelt,"
  Is yellin` till it reach de skies,
  "Poirier`s rooster got de prize,
  Poirier`s rooster got de prize,
          An` win de Champion belt!"

  An` sure enough, he beat dem all,
    Joe Poirier`s leetle red game bird,
  On beeges` show dey have dis fall,--
    De Yankee rooster only t`ird
  An` Irish number two--
  We hear a jump, an` Telesphore--
  I never see de lak before--
  He flap hees wing upon de floor
          An` cock a doodle doo!

  Dat’s finish heem, he’s gone at las`,
    An` never come aroun` again--
  We’ll miss heem w`en we’re goin` pas`,
    An` see no light upon de pane--
  But pleasure we have got,
  We’ll kip it on de memory yet,
  An` dough of course we’ll offen fret,
  Dere’s wan t`ing sure, we’ll not forget
          Poor Telesphore Cadotte!
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