"DE FIGHTIN' FISHERMAN"
Oh, de fish she's all glad in de river,
De trout and de bass jomp wid glee,
For de garcon dat scares all dere liver
Is start o'er de ocean—sapre.
De tackles all pack in de bunker,
De rod he has change for a gun,
Soon he'll troll in a trench for a junker
Wit' a steel bullet fit for a Hun.
For Joe he has tak' the King's shilling.
He march to the Barriefield Camp,
He show he is able and willing,
He's de man of de most best stamp.
So Joe when we hear dat you're goin'
We know that it won't be for play,
An' we lak to giv' somethin' for showin'
We don't forget dem dats away.
An' mebbe when you res' from de fightin',
Wit' dis keepsake pipe in your jaws,
A dream of the office may lighten,
Or your islan' camp, up by de Chats.[[1]]
Fly de flag on de ole Foxy Quiller,
She be sad till you come back again,
A medalled and famous man-killer,
Who laid by de rod to hunt men.
An' if in de fight, as in fishin',
You handle de gun like de rod,
I t'ink Kaiser Bill will be wishin'
You never come over,—by God.
An' jes' at dis time when de nation
Sends her braves' sons over de sea,
We give you our heart's salutation,
Au revoir,—and God bless you, Bebe.
Dere's plenty close shave in dis razor,
An' de time piece gives radian' light,
An' sometam you may capture de Kaiser
If he tries to creep up in de night.
[[1]] Chats, a waterfall on the Ottawa, pronounced as Shaw.