De Papineau Gun

AN INCIDENT OF THE CANADIAN REBELLION OF 1837.


Bon jour, M'sieu', you want to know
'Bout dat ole gun, w'at good she's for?
W'y! Jean Bateese Bruneau, mon pere,
Fight wit' dat gun on Pap'neau War!

Long tam since den you say, C'est vrai,
An' me too young for 'member well,
But how de patriot fight an' die,
I offen hear de ole folk tell.

De English don't ack square dat tam,
Don't geev de habitants no show,
So 'long come Wolfred Nelson
Wit' Louis Joseph Papineau.

An' swear de peep mus' have deir right.
Wolfred he's write Victoriaw,
But she's no good, so den de war
Commence among de habitants.

Mon pere he leev to Grande Brulé
So smarter man you never see,
Was alway on de grande hooraw!
Plaintee w'at you call "Esprit!"

An' w'en dey form wan compagnie
All dress wit' tuque an' ceinture sash
Ma fader tak' hees gun wit' heem
An' marche away to Saint Eustache,

W'ere many patriots was camp
Wit' brave Chenier, deir Capitaine,
W'en 'long come English Generale,
An' more two t'ousan' sojer man.

De patriot dey go on church
An' feex her up deir possibill;
Dey fight deir bes', but soon fin' out
"Canon de bois" no good for kill.

An' den de church she come on fire,
An' burn almos' down to de groun',
So w'at you t'ink our man can do
Wit' all dem English armee roun'?

'Poleon, hees sojer never fight
More brave as dem poor habitants,
Chenier, he try for broke de rank
Chenier come dead immediatement.

He fall near w'ere de cross is stan'
Upon de ole church cimitiere,
Wit' Jean Poulin an' Laframboise
An' plaintee more young feller dere.

De gun dey rattle lak' tonnere
Jus' bang, bang, bang! dat's way she go,
An' wan by wan de brave man's fall
An' red blood's cover all de snow.

Ma fader shoot so long he can
An' den he's load hees gun some more,
Jomp on de ice behin' de church
An' pass heem on de 'noder shore.

Wall! he reach home fore very long
An' keep perdu for many day,
Till ev'ry t'ing she come tranquille,
An' sojer man all gone away.

An' affer dat we get our right,
De Canayens don't fight no more,
Ma fader's never shoot dat gun,
But place her up above de door.

An' Papineau, an' Nelson too
Dey're gone long tam, but we are free,
Le Bon Dieu have 'em 'way up dere.
Salut, Wolfred! Salut, Louis!

William Henry Drummond

William Henry Drummond was a Canadian poet, best known for his humor-filled verse that captured the dialect and lifestyle of French Canadian habitants. Born on April 13, 1854, in Ireland, he immigrated to Canada during his childhood. Drummond pursued a career in medicine but garnered fame for his poetry, which was rich with character and wit. He passed away on April 6, 1907, leaving behind a cherished legacy in Canadian literature.

William Henry Drummond

Phil-O-Rum's Canoe

William Henry Drummond, Simple Poetry

Little Bateese

William Henry Drummond, Simple Poetry

Ole Tam On Bord-A-Plouffe

William Henry Drummond, Simple Poetry

Autumn Days

William Henry Drummond, Simple Poetry

English

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The Habitants Jubilee Ode

I read on de paper mos' ev'ry day, all about Jubilee
An' grande procession movin' along, an' passin' across de sea,
Dat's chil'ren of Queen Victoriaw comin' from far away
For tole Madame w'at dey t'ink of her, an' wishin' her bonne santé.

An' if any wan want to know pourquoi les Canayens should be dere
Wit' res' of de worl' for shout "Hooraw" an' t'row hees cap on de air,
Purty quick I will tole heem de reason, w'y we feel lak de oder do,
For if I'm only poor habitant, I'm not on de sapré fou.

Of course w'en we t'ink it de firs' go off, I know very strange it seem
For fader of us dey was offen die for flag of L'Ancien Regime,
From day w'en de voyageurs come out all de way from ole St. Malo,
Flyin' dat flag from de mas' above, an' long affer dat also.

De English ...

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Two Hundred Years Ago

Two honder year ago, de worl' is purty slow
Even folk upon dis contree 's not so smart,
Den who is travel roun' an' look out de pleasan' groun'
For geev' de Yankee peop' a leetle start?
I 'll tole you who dey were! de beeg rough voyageurs,
W'it deir cousin w'at you call coureurs de bois,
Dat 's fightin' all de tam, an' never care a dam,
An' ev'ry wan dem feller he 's come from Canadaw
Baptême!
He 's comin' all de way from Canadaw.

But He watch dem, le bon Dieu, for He'sgot some work to do,
An He won't trus' ev'ry body, no siree!
Only full blood Canadien, lak Marquette an' Hennepin,
An' w'at you t'ink of Louis Verandrye?

On church of Bonsecours! makin' ready for de tour,
See dem down upon de knee, all prayin' dere,
Wit' de paddle on de han' ev'rygoo...

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The Battle Of Chateauguay.

There is a valley where the wheat fields wave
In autumn like a gold ymolten sea;
There is a river whose cool waters lave
Sweet-scented gardens, groves, and rolling lea,
And homes of people worthy to be free;
There is a name whose sound is like a song
On lips of its own maidens - Chateauguay;
Yet mighty as the combat of the strong,
And glorious as the march of Freedom over Wrong.

And here they fought; and each encountered ten,
With war-steed and artillery arrayed;
But righteous was their cause, and they were men, -
Dark plumes of Iroquois, and Scotia's plaid,
But most, the brothers of the arm which made
Napoleon terrible with triumphing.
Between the foe and heaven they knelt and prayed,
Then, rising, heard their leader's summons ring -
"Such is our d...

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Madeleine Vercheres

I've told you many a tale, my child, of the old heroic days
Of Indian wars and massacre, of villages ablaze
With savage torch, from Ville Marie to the Mission of Trois Rivieres
But never have I told you yet, of Madeleine Vercheres.

Summer had come with its blossoms, and gaily the robin sang
And deep in the forest arches the axe of the woodman rang
Again in the waving meadows, the sun-browned farmers met
And out on the green St. Lawrence, the fisherman spread his net.

And so through the pleasant season, till the days of October came
When children wrought their parents, and even the old and lame
With tottering frames and footsteps, their feeble labors lent
At the gathering of the harvest le bon Dieu himself had sent.

For news there was none of battle, from the for...

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Poleon Dore

A TALE OF THE SAINT MAURICE.


You have never hear de story of de young Napoleon Doré?
Los' hees life upon de reever w'en de lumber drive go down?
W'ere de rapide roar lak tonder, dat's de place he's goin' onder,
W'en he's try save Paul Desjardins, 'Poleon hese'f is drown.

All de winter on de Shaintee, tam she's good, and work she's plaintee,
But we're not feel very sorry, w'en de sun is warm hees face,
W'en de mooshrat an' de beaver, tak' some leetle swim on reever,
An' de sout' win' scare de snowbird, so she fly some col'er place.

Den de spring is set in steady, an' we get de log all ready,
Workin' hard all day an' night too, on de water mos' de tam,
An' de skeeter w'en dey fin' us, come so quickly nearly blin' us,
Biz, biz, biz, biz, all aroun' us till we...

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Johnnie Courteau

Johnnie Courteau of de mountain
Johnnie Courteau of de hill
Dat was de boy can shoot de gun
Dat was de boy can jomp an' run
An'it's not very often you ketch heem still
Johnnie Courteau !

Ax dem along de reever
Ax dem along de shore
Who was de mos'bes'fightin'man
From Managance to Shaw-in-I-gan?
De place we're de great beeg rapide roar,
Johnnie Courteau !

Sam'tíng on ev'ry shaintee
Up on de Mekinac
Who was the man man walk de log,
W'en w'ole of de reever she's black wit'fog
An'carry de beeges'load on hees back?
Johnnie Courteau !

On de rapide you want to see heem
If de raf'she 's swingin'roun'
An'he 's yellin' "Hooray Bateese! good
man!"
W'y de oar come double on hees han'
W'en he's makin' dat raf'go flyin'do...

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