William Henry Drummond

To the hut of the peasant, or lordly hall,
To the heart of the king, or humblest thrall,
Sooner or late, love comes to all,
And it came to the Grand Seigneur, my dear,
It came to the Grand Seigneur.

The robins were singing a roundelay,
And the air was sweet with the breath of May,
As a horseman rode thro' the forest way,
And he was a Grand Seigneur, my dear,
He was a grand Seigneur.

Lord of the Manor, Count Bellefontaine,
Had spurr'd over many a stormy plain
With gallants of France at his bridle rein,
For he was a brave Cavalier, my dear--
He was a brave Cavalier.

But the huntsman's daughter, La Belle Marie,
Held the Knight's proud heart in captivity,
And oh! she was fair as the fleur de lys,
Tho' only a peasant maid, my dear,
...

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 ...

O, who can blame de winter, never min' de hard he 's blowin'
'Cos w'en de tam is comin' for passin' on hees roun'
De firse t'ing he was doin' is start de sky a snowin'
An'mak' de nice w'ite blanket, for cover up de groun' .

An' de groun' she go a'sleepin' t'roo all de stormy season,
Restin' from her work las' summer, till she 's waken by the rain
Dat le bon Dieu sen' some morning, an' of course dat 's be de reason
Ev'ry year de groun' she 's lookin' jus' as fresh an' young again.

Den you geev her leetle sunshine, w'en de snow go off an' leave her
Let de sout' win' blow upon her, an' you see beeg changes now
Wit' de steam arisin' from her jus' de sam' she got de fever,
An' not many day is passin' w'en she 's ready for de plow.

We don't bodder wit' no spring-tam w...

I ought to feel more satisfy an' happy dan I be,
For better husban' dan ma own, it 's very hard to fin'
An' plaintee woman if dey got such boy an' girl as me
Would never have no troub' at all, an' not'ing on deir min'
But w'ile dey're alway wit' me, an' dough I love dem all
I can't help t'inkin'w'en I watch de chil'ren out at play
Of tam I'm jus' lak dat mese'f, an' den de tear will fall
For de hill of St. Sebastien is very far away!

It seem so pleasan' w'en I come off here ten year ago
An' hardes' work I 'm gettin' den, was never heavy load,
De roughes' place is smoot' enough, de quickes' gait is slow
For glad I am to foller w'ere Louis lead de road
But somet'ing 's comin' over me, I feel it more an' more
It 's alway pullin' on de heart, an' stronger ev'ry day,
A...

Dere 'a s beeg jam up de reever, w'ere rapide is runnin' fas',
An' de log we cut las' winter is takin' it all de room;
So boss of de gang is swearin', for not'ing at all can pass
An' float away down de current till somebody break de boom.
"Here 's for de man will tak' de job, holiday for a week
Extra monee w'en pay day come, an' ten dollar suit of clothes.
'T is n't so hard work run de log, if only you do it quick,
W'ere 's de man of de gang den is ready to say, ` Here goes?'"
Dere was de job for a feller, handy an' young an' smart,
Willin' to tak' hees chances, willin' to risk hees life.
'Cos many a t'ing is safer, dan tryin' de boom to start,
For if de log wance ketch you, dey 're cuttin' you lak a knife.
Aleck Lachance he lissen, an' answer heem right away
"Marie Louise d...

Is it only twelve mont' I play de fool,
You're sure it 'scorrec' , ma dear?
I 'm glad for hearin' you spik dat way
For I t'ink it was twenty year,
Since leffin' de leetle ole house below,
I mak' wit' ma own two han'
For go on dat fine beeg place, up dere,
Mon Dieu! I'm de crazy man!

You 'member we 're not very riche, cherie,
Dat tam we 're beginnin' life!
Mese'fI'm twenty, an' you eighteen
W'en I 'm bringin'you home ma wife,
Many de worry an' troub' we got
An' some of dem was n't small,
But not very long dey bodder us
For we work an' forget dem all.

An' you was de savin' woman too,
Dere 's nobody beat you dere!
An' I laugh w'en I t'ink of de tam you go
Over on Trois Rivieres
For payin' de bank , you know how moche
We 're ow...

"Listen my child," said the old pine tree, to the little one nestling near,
"For the storm clouds troop together to-night, and the wind of the north I hear
And perchance there may come some echo of the music of long ago,
The music that rang when the White Host sang, marching across the snow."

"Up and away Saint George! up thro' the mountain gorge,
Over the plain where the tempest blows, and the great white flakes are flying
Down the long narrow glen! faster my merry men,
Follow the trail, tho' shy moon hides, and deeply the drifts are lying."

"Ah! mother." the little pine tree replied, "you are dreaming again to-night
Of ghostly visions and phantom forms that for-ever mock your sight
'Tis true moan of the winter wind comes to my list'ning ear
But the White Host marching, I...

I know very well t'was purty hard case
If dere 's not on de worl' some beeger place
Dan village of Cote St. Paul,
But we got mebbe sixty-five house or more
Wit' de blacksmit' shop an' two fine store
Not to speak of de church an' de city hall.

An' of course on village lak dat you fin'
Some very nice girl if you have a min'
To look aroun', an' we got dem too,
But de fines' of all never wear a ring,
Since first I 'm t'inkin' of all dem t'ing,
Was daughter of ole Narcisse Beaulieu.

Narcisse he 's bedeau on de beeg church dere,
He also look affer de presbytere,
An' leev on de house close by,
On Sunday he 's watchin' de leetle boys,
Stoppin' dem kickin' up too much noise,
An' he bury de peop' w'en dey 're comin' die.

So dat 's w'at he do,...

W'at'sall dem bell a ringin' for, a can hear dem ev'ry w'ere?
W'at's bring de peop' togeder on de w'arf at Trois Rivieres,
Dat happy crowd is look so glad, w'yare dey comin' dere?
O! de reason dey're so happy w'ile dey're waitin' dere to-day
Is becos de oyster schooner she's sailin' up de bay
An' de caraquette an' malpecque will quickly melt away
Affer she wast'row de anchor on t'ree reever.

For w'y dey mak' de fuss lak dat, an' nearly broke deir neck,
Ain't dey got de noder oyster more better dan malpecque
Or caraquette, dat leetle wan from down be- low Kebeck?

Wall! ax de crowd dat question w'ile dey're waitin' dere to-day
So glad to see La Belle Marie sailin' up de bay,
An' dey 'll drown you on de water, so you 'll know about de way
She was t'rowin' out de anc...

De win' is sleepin' in de pine, but O! de night is black!
An' all day long de loon bird cry on Lac Wayagamack,
No light is shinin' by de shore for helpin' steer heem t'roo
W'en out upon de night, Ubalde he tak' de red canoe.

I hear de paddle dip, dip, dip! wance more I hear de loon,
I feel de breeze was show de way for storm dat 's comin' soon,
An' den de sky fly open wit' de lightning splittin' t'roo,
An' 'way beyon' de point I see de leetle red canoe.

It 's dark again, but lissen how across Wayagamack
De tonder 's roarin' loud,an' now de mountains answer back,
I wonder wit' de noise lak dat, he hear me, le bon Dieu
W'en on ma knee I ax Heem save de leetle red canoe!

Is dat a voice, so far away, it die upon ma hear?
Or only win' was foolin' me, an' w'isper...

You can sew heem up in a canvas sack,
An' t'rowheem over boar'
You can wait till de ship she 's comin' back
Den bury heem on de shore
For dead man w'en he 's dead for sure,
Ain't good for not'ing at all
An' he 'll stay on de place you put heem
Till he hear dat bugle call
Dey say will soun' on de las', las' day
W'en ev'ry t'ing 's goin' for pass away,
But down on de Gulf of St. Laurent
W'ere de sea an' de reever meet
An' off on St. Pierre de Miquelon,
De chil'ren on de street
Can tole you story of Pierre Guillaume,
De sailor of St. Yvonne
Dat 's bringin' de Rose Delima home
Affer he 's dead an' gone.


He was stretch heem on de bed an' he couldn't raise hees head
So dey place heem near de winder w'ere he can look below,
An' watch d...

Go easy wit' de paddle, an' steady wit' de oar
Geev rudder to de bes' manyou got among de crew,
Let ev'ry wan be quiet, don't let dem sing no more
W'en you see de islan' risin' out of Grande Lac Manitou
Above us on de sky dere, de summer cloud may float
Aroun' us on de water de ripple never show,
But somet'ing down below us can rock de stronges' boat,
W'en we 're comin' near de islan' of de spirit Windigo!

De carcajou may breed dere,an' otter sweem de poole
De moosh-rat mak' de mud house, an' beaver buil' hees dam
An' beeges' Injun hunter on all de Tête de Boule
Will never set hees trap dere from spring to summer tam.

But he 'llbring de fines' presen' from upper St. Maurice
De loup marin an' black-fox from off de Hodson Bay
An' hide dem on de islan' an' smok...

On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre,
De win' she blow, blow, blow,
An' de crew of de wood scow "Julie Plante"
Got scar't an' run below
For de win' she blow lak hurricane,
Bimeby she blow some more,
An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre
Wan arpent from de shore.
De captinne walk on de fronte deck,
An' walk de hin' deck too
He call de crew from up de hole,
He call de cook also.
De cook she 's name was Rosie,
She come from Montreal,
Was chambre maid on lumber barge,
On de Grande Lachine Canal.
De win' she blow from nor' -eas' -wes',
De sout' win' she blow too,
W'en Rosie cry, "Mon cher captinne,
Mon cher, w'at I shall do ?"
Den de captinne t'row de beeg ankerre,
But still de scow she dreef,
De crew he can't pass on de shore,
Bec...

This Life, which seems so fair,
Is like a bubble blown up in the air
By sporting children's breath,
Who chase it everywhere
And strive who can most motion it bequeath.
And though it sometimes seem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fixed there,
And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is because it is so light.
But in that pomp it doth not long appear;
For when 'tis most admired, in a thought,
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.

My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.
Since that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve,
Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow,
Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above,
What art thou but a harbinger of woe?
Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more,
But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear;
Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear;
For which be silent as in woods before:
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,
Like widowed turtle, still her loss complain.

Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early hours
Of winters past or coming, void of care,
Well pleased with delights which present are,
(Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet-smelling flowers)
To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy bowers
Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare,
And what dear gifts on thee He did not spare:
A stain to human sense in sin that lours,
What soul can be so sick which by thy songs
(Attired in sweetness) sweetly is not driven
Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and wrongs,
And lift a reverend eye and thought to heaven?
Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost raise
To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays.

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...

Was workin' away on de farm dere, wan morning not long ago,
Feexin' de fence for winter, 'cos dat's w'ere we got de snow!
W'en Jeremie Plouffe, ma neighbor, come over an' spik wit' me,
"Antoine, you will come on de city, for hear Ma-dam All-ba-nee?"

"W'at you mean?" I was sayin' right off, me, "Some woman was mak' de speech,
Or girl on de Hooraw Circus, doin' high kick an' screech?"
"Non, non," he is spikin', "Excuse me, dat's be Ma-dam All-ba-nee
Was leevin' down here on de contree, two mile 'noder side Chambly.

"She's jus' comin' over from Englan', on steamboat arrive Kebeck,
Singin' on Lunnon an' Paree, an' havin' beeg tam, I expec',
But no matter de moche she enjoy it, for travel all roun' de worl',
Somet'ing on de heart bring her back here, for she was de Chambly girl...