I'm feel it so tire, an' sore all de place, wit'
all de hard work I do',
'Cos I'm not very use for mak' paddle, me, on beeg,
beeg phantome canoe,
But Bill an' hees boy dey was leef me up, an'
carry me on maison
W'ere plaintee nice t'ing dey was mak' me eat,
an' drink it some whiskey blanc.

An' now w'en I'm finish, w'at you t'ink it youse'f,
'bout story dat you was hear?
No wonner ma hair she is all turn w'ite before I
get eighty year!
But 'member dis t'ing, I be tole you firs, don't
los' it mes chers amis,
De man he can leev him on long, long tam, an'
not see it La Chasse Gal'rie!

* * * * *

He sit on de corner mos' every night, ole
Phil-o-rum Juneau,
Spik wit' hese'f, an' shak' de head, an' smoke
on de pipe also,
But kip very quiet, don't wak' him up, let him
stay on de kitchen wall,
For if you believe w'at de ole man say, you
believe anyt'ing at all.