Can spik for dat, ma horse go well,
An' never show no sign of sweat,
Until dat boy he's ring hees bell—
Misere! I t'ink I hear heem yet!
Wall! jus' so soon mon Choual "Castor"
Was hear dat bell go kling! klang! kling!
He's tink of course of city car,
An' spose mus' be conductor ring.
Firs' t'ing I know ma trotter's drop
Dat tail was stan' so straight before,
An' affer dat, mebbe he stop
For me, I don't know not'ing more.
But w'en I'm come alive again
I fin' dat horse call "Clevelan' Bay"
Was got firs' place, an' so he's gain
Dat wan mile heat on straight away.
An' now w'erever I am go
Bad boy he's sure for holler an' yell
Dis donc! Dis donc! Paul Archambault!
W'at's matter wit' your chestnutte bell?
Mak' plaintee troub' dem bad garçons,
An' offen ring some bell also,
Was mad! Could plonge on de St. Laurent
An' w'at to do, "Castor" don't know.
Las' tam I pass de railway track
For drive avec mon frere Alfred,
In-jinne she's ring, "Castor" he's back,
Monjee! it's fonny I'm not come dead!
Toujours comme ça! an' mak' me sick,
But horse dat work long on les chars
Can't broke dem off on fancy trick
So now I'm busy for sole "Castor."
[Footnote 1: "St. Lawrence," the Canadian "Dexter.">[