THE TRUE THEORY OF THE BONE.
“O, I’m the bone of a Parley Yoo
That settled in Minas Bay,
That dammed the marshes, and cleared the woods,
And called the place Grand Pré.
"And the grain it riz, and the settlement growed,
And werry content were we,
With our cattle and pigs, and bosses and gigs,
And beautiful scenerie.
"And there it was nothing but Nong-tong-paw,
Et cetera, from morning to night,
And Mercy, madame, and Wee, moo-soo,—
We were all so werry polite.
"But the Britishers came, and druv us off;
So I took to my heels, and ran,
And one of them chased me, and quick I went
For rather an elderly man.
"And he had a gun, and I had none;
And he fired that gun at me;
And he shot my leg, and off it dropped,
Which was rather a bother, you see.
"But I seized my leg, and I hopped away,
As quick as quick could be,
And the Britisher loaded his gun agin,
For another shot at me.
"But I dodged the Britisher in the woods,
And took the leg that was shot,
And buried it under the apple tree,
In this werry identical spot.
"And I’m the werry identical bone
Of the leg of the Parley Yoo
That was buried beneath the apple tree,
And dug up again by you!”
This closed the proceedings.
A procession was then formed, headed by the “B. O. W. C.,” who led the way to the Museum.
There they deposited the exhumed Acadian relics; and, if they haven’t been taken away, they’re lying there still.