Ba gosh; Elmire she don't lak dat—it mak' her feel so mad—
She commence cry, say "'Poleon you treat me very bad—
I don't lak see you t'row you'seff upon Polique Gauthier,
So if you say you love me sure—we mak' de mariée."—
Oh it was fine tam affer dat—Castor I t'ink he know,
We're not too busy for get home—he go so nice an' slow,
He's only upset t'ree—four tam—an' jus' about daylight
We pass upon de ole man's place—an' every t'ing's all right.
Wall! we leev happy on de farm for nearly fifty year,
Till wan day on de summer tam—she die—ma belle Elmire
I feel so lonesome lef' behin'—I tink 'twas bes' mebbe—
Dat w'en le Bon Dieu tak' ma famme—he should not forget me.
But dat is hees biz-nesse ma frien'—I know dat's all right dere
I'll wait till he call "'Poleon" den I will be prepare—
An' w'en he fin' me ready, for mak' de longue voyage
He guide me t'roo de wood hesef upon ma las' portage.
"DE PAPINEAU GUN."
AN INCIDENT OF THE CANADIAN REBELLION OF 1837.
Bon jour, M'sieu'—you want to know
'Bout dat ole gun—w'at good she's for?
W'y! Jean Bateese Bruneau—mon pere,
Fight wit' dat gun on Pap'neau War!
Long tam since den you say—C'est vrai,
An' me too young for 'member well,
But how de patriot fight an' die,
I offen hear de ole folk tell.
De English don't ack square dat tam,
Don't geev de habitants no show,
So 'long come Wolfred Nelson
Wit' Louis Joseph Papineau.
An' swear de peep mus' have deir right.
Wolfred he's write Victoriaw,
But she's no good, so den de war
Commence among de habitants.