The Voyageur and Other Poems — Edition Insights

e,--bet your life I 'm prouder, bâ Gosh! to-day Mese'f, de leetle wan, an' de wife, Dan anyt'ing I can say--

'Cos nobody strike on de way we do-- For home an' deir own contree-- Wit' fedder bed, stove, de cradle too, An' ev'ryt'ing else we see-- Pilin' de wagon up ten foot high Goin' along de road-- An' de Yankee say as we 're passin' by Dey never see such a load--

So dat 's how we 're comin' to Yamachiche-- An' dat 's w'y we 're stayin' here-- Jus' to be quiet an' hunt an' feesh, Not'ing at all to fear-- An' if ever you lissen de Yankee folk Brag an' kick up de fuss-- An' say we 're lak cattle upon de yoke, An' away dey can trot from us--

Jus' tell dem de news of Gédéon Plouffe-- How he jump wit' de familee An' strike w'en de bugle is raise de roof For home an' hees own contree.

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!

A stranger might say if he see heem drink till he almos' fall, "Doctor lak dat for sick folk, he 's never no use at all," But wait till you hear de story dey 're tellin' about heem yet, An' see if you don't hear somet'ing, mebbe you won't forget.

Twenty odd year she 's marry, Belzemire Lafreniere, An' oh! but she 's feelin' lonesome 'cos never a sign is dere-- Purty long tam for waitin', but poor leetle Belzemire She 's bad enough now for pay up all of dem twenty year.

Call heem de oldes' doctor, call heem de younges' wan, Bring dem along, no matter if ev'ry dollar 's gone-- T'ree of dem can't do not'ing, workin' for two days dere, She was a very sick woman, Belzemire Lafreniere.

Pierre he was cryin', cryin' out on de barn behin', Neighbors tryin' to kip heem goin' right off hees min', W'en somebody say, "Las' winter, ma wife she is nearly go, An' who do you t'ink is save her? ev'ry wan surely know.

"Drink? does he drink de w'isky? don't care I 'm hees only frien', Dere 's only wan answer comin'. Wall! leetle bit now an' den Doctor Hilaire he tak' it, but if it was me or you Leevin' on Beausejour dere, w'at are you goin' to do?

"An' so you may t'ank de w'isky, 'cos w'ere 'll he be to-day If he never is drinkin' not'ing? Many a mile away Off on de great beeg city, makin' de money quick, W'ere ev'ry wan want de doctor w'enever he 's leetle sick.

"Remember de way to get heem is tell heem it's bad, bad case, Or Doctor Hilaire you 'll never see heem upon dis place! Tell heem dere 's two life waitin', an' sure to be comin' die Unless he is hurry quicker dan ever de bird can fly.

"T'orty mile crick is runnin' over de road, I 'm sure, But if you can fin' de crossin' you 'll ketch heem at Beausejour. Sober or drunk, no matter, bring heem along you mus', For Doctor Hilaire 's de only man of de lot for us."

Out wit' de quickes' horse den, Ste. Genevieve has got, An' if ever you show your paces, now is de tam to trot-- Johnnie Dufresne is drivin', w'at! never hear tell of heem, Off on de Yankee circus, an' han'le a ten-horse team?

Dat was de lonesome journey over de mountain high, Down w'ere de w'ite fog risin' show w'ere de swamp is lie, An' drive as he can de faster, an' furder away he get, Johnnie can hear dat woman closer an' closer yet.

Offen he tell about it, not'ing he never do Geev' heem de funny feelin' Johnnie is goin' t'roo, But he is sure of wan t'ing, if Belzemire 's comin' die, Poor woman, she 'd never foller affer heem wit' her cry.

Dat is de t'ing is cheer heem, knowin' she is n't gone, So he answer de voice a-callin', tellin' her to hol' on, Till he bring her de help she 's needin' if only she wait a w'ile Dat is de way he 's doin' all of dem t'orty mile--

Lucky he was to-night, too, for place on de crick he got, Search on de light of day-tam, he could n't fin' better spot, But jus' as it happen', mebbe acre or two below, Is place w'ere de ole mail-driver 's drownin' a year ago.

W'ere is de road? he got it, an' very soon Beausejour Off on de hillside lyin', dere she is, small an' poor, Lookin' so lak starvation might a' been t'roo de war, An' dere, on de bar-room sleepin', de man he is lookin' for.

Drunk? he is worse dan ever--poor leetle man! too bad! Lissen to not'ing neider, but Johnnie is feel so glad Ketchin' heem dere so easy, 'fore he can answer, "No"-- He 's tyin' heem on de buggy, an' off on de road he go--

Half o' de journey 's over, half o' de night is pass, W'en Doctor Hilaire stop swearin', an' start to get quiet at las'-- Don't do any good ax Johnnie lettin' heem loose again, For if any man tak' de chances, would n't be Johnnie Dufresne.

Hooraw for de black horse trotter! hooraw for de feller drive! An' wan leetle cheer for Belzemire dat 's kipin' herse'f alive Till Johnnie is bring de doctor, an' carry heem on de door An' loosen heem out as sober as never he was before.

Quiet inside de house now, quiet de outside too, Look at each oder smokin', dat 's about all we do; An' jus' as we feel, ba tonder! no use, we mus' talk or die, Dere on de house we 're hearin' poor leetle baby's cry.

Dat 's all, but enough for makin' tear comin' down de face, An' Pierre, if you only see heem jumpin' aroun' de place You 'd t'ink of a colt in spring-tam--den off on de barn we go W'ere somebody got de bottle for drinkin' de healt', you know.

Takin' it too moche w'isky, is purty hard job to cure, But only for poor ole w'isky, village of Beausejour Can never have such a doctor, an' dat 's w'y it aint no tam Talk very moche agin it, but fill her up jus' de sam'.

An' drink to de baby's moder, here 's to de baby too, An' Doctor Hilaire, anoder, beeger dan all, for you. For sober or drunk, no matter, so long as he understan' It's very bad case is waitin', Doctor Hilaire 's de man.

Dere 's some lak dory, an' some lak bass, An' plaintee dey mus' have trout-- An' w'ite feesh too, dere 's quite a few Not satisfy do widout-- Very fon' of sucker some folk is, too, But for me, you can go an' cut De w'ole of dem t'roo w'at you call menu, So long as I get barbotte-- Ho! Ho! for me it 's de nice barbotte.

No fuss to ketch heem--no row at all, De sam' as you have wit' bass-- Never can tell if you hook heem well, An' mebbe he 's gone at las'! An' trout, wall! any wan 's ketchin' trout Dey got to be purty smart-- But leetle bull-pout, don't have to look out, For dem feller got no heart-- Good t'ing, dey ain't got no heart

Dat 's wan of de reason I lak heem too-- For all you have got to do Is takin' your pole on de feeshin' hole An' anchor de ole canoe-- Den spit on de worm for luck, an' pass De leetle hook up de gut, An' drop it down slow, jus' a minute or so, An' pull up de nice barbotte, Ha! Ha! de fine leetle fat barbotte.

Pleasan' to lissen upon de spring De leetle bird sing hees song, Wile you watch de line an' look out for sign Of mooshrat swimmin' along; Den tak' it easy an' smoke de pipe, An' w'ere is de man has got More fun dan you on de ole canoe W'en dey 're bitin', de nice barbotte-- De nice leetle fat barbotte.

No runnin' aroun' on de crick for heem, No jompin' upon de air, Makin' you sweat till your shirt is wet An' sorry you 're comin' dere-- Foolin' away wit' de rod an' line Mebbe de affernoon-- For sure as he bite he 's dere all right, An' you 're ketchin' heem very soon-- Yass sir! you 're gettin' heem purty soon.

Den tak' heem off home wit' a dozen more An' skin heem so quick you can, Fry heem wit' lard, an' you 'll fin' it hard To say if dere 's on de pan Such feesh as dat on de worl' before Since Adam, you know, is shut Out of de gate w'en he 's comin' home late, As de nice leetle fat barbotte-- Dat 's true, de nice leetle sweet barbotte.

Air--"Sur la Montagne"

Jus' as de sun is tryin' Climb on de summer sky Two leetle bird come flyin' Over de mountain high-- Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol!

Out of de nes' togeder, Broder an' sister too, Out on de summer wedder W'en de w'ole worl' is new-- Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol!

No leetle heart was lighter, No leetle bird so gay, Never de sun look brighter Dan he is look to-day-- Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol!

W'y are dey leave de nes' dere W'ere dey was still belong? Better to stay an' res' dere Until de wing is strong. Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol!

W'at is dat watchin' dere now Up on de maple tall, Better look out, tak' care now, Poor leetle rossignol, Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol!

Here dey are comin' near heem Singin' deir way along-- How can dey know to fear heem Poor leetle bird so young-- Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol!

Moder won't hear you cryin', W'at is de use to call, W'en he is comin' flyin' Quick as de star is fall? Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear dem call, Hear dem call--poor leetle rossignol?

Up w'ere de nes' is lyin', High on de cedar bough, W'ere de young hawk was cryin' Soon will be quiet now. Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear heem call, Hear heem call--poor leetle rossignol!

If he had only kissed her, Poor leetle rossignol! But he was los' hees sister, An' it 's alone he call-- Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear heem call, Hear heem call--poor leetle rossignol!

Only a day of gladness, Only a day of song, Only a night of sadness Lastin' de w'ole life long. Over de mountain, over de mountain, Hear heem call, Hear heem call--poor leetle rossignol!

A quiet boy was Joe Bedotte, An' no sign anyw'ere Of anyt'ing at all he got Is up to ordinaire-- An' w'en de teacher tell heem go An' tak' a holiday, For wake heem up, becos' he 's slow, Poor Joe would only say, "Wall! meb-be."

Don't bodder no wan on de school Unless dey bodder heem, But all de scholar t'ink he 's fool Or walkin' on a dream-- So w'en dey 're closin' on de spring Of course dey 're moche surprise Dat Joe is takin' ev'ry-t'ing Of w'at you call de prize.

An' den de teacher say, "Jo-seph, I know you 're workin' hard-- Becos' w'en I am pass mese'f I see you on de yard A-splittin' wood--no doubt you stay An' study half de night?" An' Joe he spik de sam' ole way So quiet an' polite, "Wall! meb-be."

Hees fader an' hees moder die An' lef' heem dere alone Wit' chil'ren small enough to cry, An' farm all rock an' stone-- But Joe is fader, moder too, An' work bote day an' night An' clear de place--dat 's w'at he do, An' bring dem up all right.

De Curé say, "Jo-seph, you know Le bon Dieu 's very good-- He feed de small bird on de snow, De caribou on de wood-- But you deserve some credit too-- I spik of dis before." So Joe he dunno w'at to do An' only say wance more, "Wall! meb-be."

An' Joe he leev' for many year An' helpin' ev'ry wan Upon de parish far an' near Till all hees money 's gone-- An' den de Curé come again Wit' tear-drop on hees eye-- He know for sure poor Joe, hees frien', Is well prepare to die.

"Wall! Joe, de work you done will tell W'en you get up above-- De good God he will treat you well An' geev' you all hees love. De poor an' sick down here below, I 'm sure dey 'll not forget," An' w'at you t'ink he say, poor Joe, Drawin' hees only breat'? "Wall! meb-be."

Snubbing (Tying-up) the Raft

Las' night dey 're passin', de golden plover, Dis mornin' I 'm seein' de bluebird's wing, So if not'ing go wrong, de winter 's over, An' not very long till we got de spring.

An' nex' t'ing de reever she 'll start a-hummin', An' den you 'll hear it, de song an' laugh, Is tellin' de news, de boys are comin' Home again on de saw-log raf'.

All very well for see dem swingin' Roun' de beeg islan' dere on de bay, Nice t'ing too, for to hear dem singin', 'Cos it mak' me t'ink of de good ole day.

An' me--I could lissen dem song forever, But it is n't so pleasan' w'en evenin' fall, An' dey 're lookin' for place to stay, an' never Snub de raf' on ma place at all---

Dat 's de fine cove if dey only know it-- Hard to fin' better on St. Maurice, Up de reever or down below it, An' house on de hill only leetle piece.

W'at is de reason den, w'en dey fin' dem Raf' comin' near me, dey all get scare, An' pull lak de devil was close behin' dem, An' 'way down de reever to Joe Belair?

Two mile more, wit' de rock an' stone dere, An' water so shallow can't float canoe, But ev'ry boy of de gang, he 's goin' dere, Even de cook, an' de captain too--

W'at is de reason, I lak to know--me-- Ma own leetle cove 's lyin' empty dere, An' nobody stop till dey go below me, Snubbin' de raf' on Joe Belair?

Not'ing lak dat twenty year ago, sir, W'en voyageurs' comin' from up above, Dere 's only wan place us feller know, sir, W'en dey 're goin' ashore, an' dat's de cove.

An' dere on door of de house she 's stan'nin' To welcome us back, Madame Baribeau, An' Pierre hese'f, he was on de lan'nin', Ready for ketchin' de rope we t'row.

An' oh! de girl use to mak' us crazy-- For many a fine girl Pierre has got-- Right on de jomp too--never lazy, But Sophie 's de fines' wan of de lot.

Me--I was only a comon feller, An' love--wall! jus' lak de leetle calf, An' it's true, I 'm sure, w'at dey offen tell her, I 'm de uglies' man on boar' de raf'.

But Sophie 's so nice an' good shese'f too, De uglies' man upon all de worl' Forget hees face an' forget hese'f too, T'ree minute affer he see dat girl--

An' dat 's de reason de chance is better, For you must n't be t'ink of you'se'f at all, But t'ink of de girl if you want to get her, An' so we 're marry upon de fall.

An' purty soon den dey all get started, For marryin' fever come so strong W'en de firse wan go, dat dey 're broken-hearted An' tak' mos' anyt'ing come along.

So Joe Belair, w'en hees house is buil' dere, He go down de reever wit' Eugenie, An' place I settle on top de hill dere, De ole man geev' it to Sophie an' me.

An' along dey come, wan foller de oder, Dozen o' girl--not a boy at all-- Never a girl tak' affer de moder, But all lak de fader, beeg an' small--

A dozen o' girl, of course, no wonder A few of dem look lak me--sapree! But w'en dey 're comin' dat way, ba tonder! She 's jus' a leetle too moche for me.

An' Joe Belair, he was down below me, Funny t'ing too, he is ketch also, Ev'ryt'ing girl--how it come dunno--me-- But dey 're all lak de familee Baribeau--

Growin' up purty de sam' de moder-- An' soon as dey know it along de shore De boys stop comin', an' never bodder For snub de raf' on ma place no more--

So w'at is de chance ma girl she 's gettin', Don't care w'ere I look, none at all I see, No use, I s'pose, kipin' on a-frettin', Dough it's very hard case poor man lak me.

W'at 'll I do for bring dem here,--me? Can't be blowin' dem to de moon-- Or buil' a dam on de reever near me For fear we 're sure to be drownin' soon.

To-night I can hear hees darn ole fiddle, Playin' away on Joe Belair-- Can hear heem holler, "Pass down de middle An' dance on your partner over dere."

Pleasan' t'ing too, for to smell de w'isky Off on de leetle back room--bâ oui-- Helpin' de ole folk mak' dem frisky, Very pleasan' for dem, but not for me--

Oh! it mak' me mad, an' I 'm tire tryin' To show how I feel, an' it 's hard to tell-- So I 'll geev' it up, for dere 's no good cryin'; 'Sides w'at is de use of a two-mile smell?