The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems by William Henry Drummond
page 72 of 94 (76%)
page 72 of 94 (76%)
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I was mak' mese'f on de wood las' spring.
Dere was jus' 'noder t'ing he seem for care An' den he is feel it more satisfy, Dat t'ing, my dear frien', was for keel some bear, If he'll do dat wan tam, he's prepare for die. Phileas say he know w'ere some blue berree Mak' very good place for de bear have fonne, So we start nex' day on morning earlee, An' M'sieu Smit' go wit' hees elephan' gun. Wan woman sauvage she is come be dere, Mebbe want some blue berree mak' some pie, Dat' Englishman shoot, he is t'ink she's bear, An' de woman she's holler, "Mon Dieu, I'm die!" M'sieu Smit' he don't do no harm, becos He is shake hese'f w'en he shoot dat squaw, But scare he pay hunder' dollar cos' For keel some sauvage on de "close" saison. T'ree day affer dat, we start out on lac For ketch on de water wan Cariboo, But win' she blow strong, an' we can't get back Till we t'row ourse'f out on dat canoe. We t'ink M'sieu Smit' he is sure be drown, Leetle w'ile we can't see heem again no more, An' den he's come up from de place go down |
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