Dey was comin' on de jomp t'roo dat dam old beaver swamp
An' meet de crowd is lookin' for dem cow was go a-strayin'.
Den she' cryin', Victorine, for she's knowin' w'at it mean—
De parish dey was talkin' firse chances dey be gettin'.
\But no sooner dat young man stop de horse, he tak' her han'
An' w'isper, "Never min', ma chère, won't do no good a-frettin'."
Non! she isn't cryin' long, for he tole her it was wrong.
She's sure he save her life too, or she was moche mistaken,
An' de ole Ma-dame Leveque also kiss heem on de neck
An' quickly after dat, Hooraw! de man an' wife dey're makin'.