He sit on de corner mos' every night, ole
Phil-o-rum Juneau,
Spik wit' hese'f an' shake de head, an' smoke
on de pipe also—
Very hard job it's for wake him up, no matter
de loud we call
W'en he's feex hese'f on de beeg arm-chair,
back on de kitchen wall.
He don't believe not'ing at all, at all 'bout
lates' new fashion t'ing
Le char 'lectrique an' de telephome, was talk
w'en de bell she ring
Dat's leetle too moche for de ole bonhomme,
mak' him shake it de head an' say
"Wat's use mak' de foolish lak dat, sapré!
I'm not born only yesterday."
But if you want story dat's true, true, true, I
tole you good wan moi-meme
An de t'ing you was spik, dat I don't believe,
for sure she was beat all dem.
So he's cough leetle cough, clear 'im up de
t'roat, fill hees pipe wit' some more tabac,
An' w'en de chil'ren is come tranquille, de
ole man begin comme câ.
L'enfant! l'enfant! it's very strange t'ing!
mak' me laugh too w'en I hear
De young peep talk of de long, long tam of
seventy, eighty year!
Dat's only be jus' eighty New Year Day, an'
quickly was pass it by
It's beeg, beeg dream, an' you don't wake up,
till affer you're comin' die.
Dat's true sure enough, you see curi's t'ing,
if you only leev leetle w'ile,
So long you got monee go all de place, for
mebbe t'ree t'ousan' mile,
But monee's not everyt'ing on dis worl', I tole
you dat, mes amis,
An' man can be ole lak' two honder year, an'
not see it, La Chasse Gal'rie.
I never forget de fine New Year night, nearly
seexty year ago,
W'en I'm lef' it our place for attend soiree,
on ole Maxime Baribault,
Nine mile away, I can see tin roof, on church
of de St. Joseph,
An' over de snow, de leaf dat die las' fall,
was chasin' itse'f.
Dere was some of de neighbor house I call,
dat's be de ole fashion style,
An' very nice style too, mes amis, I hope she
will las' long w'ile,
I shak' it de han', I drink santé, an' kiss it
de girl she's face,
So it's come ten o'clock, w'en I pass on road,
for visit Maxime hees place.
But I'm not go more mebbe t'ree arpent, w'en
de sky is get black all roun',
An' de win' she blow lak I never see, an'
de beeg snowstorm come down.
I mak' it my min' she's goin' be soon, de very
bad night for true,
Dat's locky I got plaintee whiskey lef', so I
tak' it wan leetle "coup."
Purty quick affer dat, I'm comin' nice place,
was stan'in' some fine beeg tree
W'ere de snow don't dreef', an' it seem jus'
lak dat place it is mak' for me,
So I pass it on dere, for mak' safe mese'f,
w'ile de storm is blow outside,
As if all de devil on hell below, was tak'
heem some fancy ride.
Wan red fox he's comin' so close, so close,
I could ketch him wit' de han',
But not on de tam lak dis ma frien', "Marche
toi all de quick you can,"
Poor feller he's tire an' seem los' hees way,
an' w'en he reach home dat night
Mebbe he fin' it all was close up, an' de door
it was fassen tight.