So of course he 's pickin' de fancy trick
An' ev'ryt'ing else dey got—
Work over tam—but he got homesick
De young Adelard Marcotte
Jus' about tam w'en de fall come along—-
So den he wissle hees leetle song
An' buy tiquette for de ole Ste. Flore,
An' back on de village he come some more.
Ho! Ho! ma Jeremie Bonami,
Get ready you'se'f to-day,
For you got beeg job you was never see
Will tak' all your breat' away—
"Come on! come on!" dey be shoutin' loud,
De Bishop hese'f could n't draw de crowd
Of folk on de parish for mile aroun',
Till dey could n't fin' place upon de groun'.
Hi! Hi! Jeremie, you may sweat an' swear,
Your tam is arrive at las'—
Dere 's no use pullin' out all your hair
Or drinkin' de w'isky glass—
Spit on your han' or hitch de pants—
You 'll never have anyt'ing lak a chance,
Hooraw! Hooraw! let her go wance more,
An' Adelard 's champion of all Ste. Flore!
"Away on de pump!" de crowd is yell,
"No use for heem goin' die."
Dey nearly drown Jeremie on de well
But he 's comin' roun' bimeby
Rosine dat 's laughin' away all day
Is startin' to cry, an' den she say—
"O fader dear, won't you geev' me kiss
For I never s'pose it would come to dis?
"Don't blame de boy over dere, 't was me
Dat sen' away Adelard—
He 's sorry for beat you, I 'm sure, bâ oui,
An' dat 's w'at I 'm cryin' for—
'Cos it 's all ma fault you was lick to-day,
Don't care w'at anywan else can say—
But remember too, an' you 'll not forget
De championship 's still on de familee yet."
An' de ole man smile.
[1] Old proverb of Ste. Flore.
