An' fine cigar cos' five cent each, an' mak' on Trois-Rivières!
L'enfant! he smoke beeg pile of dem—for monee he don't care!
I s'pose, meseff, it's t'ree o'clock w'en we are t'roo dat night.
Bateese, hees fader come for heem, an' tak' heem home all right;
De ole man say Bateese spik French, w'en he is place on bed—
An' say bad word—but w'en he wake—forget it on hees head.
Wall! all de winter, w'en we have soirée dat's grande affaire
Bateese Trudeau, dit Waterhole, de be de boss man dere—
You bet he have beeg tam!—but w'en de spring is come encore
He's buy première classe tiquette for go on State some more.