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William Henry Drummond - Keep Out Of The Weeds
Work rating: Low

No smarter man you can never know
  W`en I was a boy, dan Pierre Nadeau,
  An` quiet he`s too, very seldom talk,
  But got an eye lak de mountain hawk,
  See all aroun` heem mos` ev`ryw`ere,
  An` not many folk is foolin` Pierre.

  Offen I use to be t`inkin`--me--
  How on de worl` it was come to be
  He know so moche, w`en he never go
  On college or school, ole Pierre Nadeau,
  Feesh on de reever de summer t`roo,
  An` trap on de winter--dat’s all he do.

  "Hi! boy--Hi! put your book away,
  An` come wit` your uncle Pierre to-day,
  Ketch hol` of de line an` hang on tight,
  An` see if your moder won`t cook to-night
  Some nice fresh feesh for de familee,"
  Many a tam he was say to me--

  An` den I’m quiet, too scare to spik,
  Wile Pierre he paddle me down de crick,
  Easy an` nice he mak` her go
  Close to de shore w`ere de bulrush grow,
  W`ere de pike an` de beeg feesh lak to feed,
  Deir nose stickin` out w`ere you see de weed--

  "Lissen, ma boy," say Pierre Nadeau,
  "To some of de t`ing you ought to know:
  Kip a lookout on de hook an` line,
  In case dey `re gettin` too far behin`;
  For it’s purty hard job know w`at to do,
  If de reever weed’s ketchin` hol` of you.

  "But if you want feesh, you mus` kip leetle close,
  For dat’s w`ere de beeg feller come de mos`,
  Not on de middle w`ere water’s bare,
  But near to de rushes over dere,
  `Cos dat was de spot dey alway feed--
  All de sam` you got to look out for weed.

  "Ho! Ho! a strike! let heem have it now--
  Gosh! ain`t he a`kickin` heem up de row,
  Pullin` so hard, never min`, ma son,
  W`en he go lak dat he was nearly done,
  But he’s all right now, so don`t be afraid,
  Jus` hit heem again wit` de paddle blade.

  "Yass! over an` over, it’s good advice,
  An` me, I know, for I pay de price
  On w`at you call compoun` interes` too,
  For larnin` de lesson I geev` to you,
  Close as you lak, but, ma boy, tak` heed
  You don`t run into de beeg long weed.

  "An` by an` by w`en you `re growin` up,
  An` mebbe drink of de black, black cup
  Of trouble an` bodder an` dunno w`at,
  You’ll say to you`se`f, `Wall!  I forgot
  De lesson ole Pierre he know I need,`
  W`en he say to me, `Boy, look out for weed`--

  "For de worl’s de sam` as de reever dere,
  Plaintee of weed lyin` ev`ryw`ere,
  But work aroun` or your life is gone,
  An` tak` some chance or you won`t get on,
  For if you don`t feesh w`ere de weed is grow,
  You’ll only ketch small leetle wan or so--

  "Dere’s no use sayin`, `I’ll wait an` see
  If some of dem feesh don`t come to me,
  I’ll stay outside, for it’s pleasan` here,
  W`ere de water’s lookin` so nice an` clear,`
  Dat’s way you’ll never get w`at you need--
  Keep feeshin` away, but look out for weed."

        *      *      *      *

  Dat was de lesson ole Pierre Nadeau
  Tell to me offen, so long ago--
  Poor ole Pierre! an` I’m tryin` too,
  Tak` hees advice, for I know it’s true,
  But far as it goes we’re all de same breed,
  An` it’s not so easy kip out de weed.
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