Until he smell de smell dat come
W'en Louis mak' it hot
Wit' sugar, spice, an' ev'ryt'ing.
Enough to mak' a man's head sing—
For winter, summer, fall an' spring—
It 's very bes' t'ing we got.
An' so de devil can't refuse
To try de w'isky blanc,
An' say, "I 'm tryin' many drink,
An' dis is de fines' I don't t'ink,
De firse, ba tonder! mak' me wink—
Hooraw, pour Canadaw!"
"Merci—non, non—I tak' no more,"
De devil say at las',
"For tam is up wit' you, Louis,
So come along, ma frien', wit' me,
So many star I 'm sure I see,
De storm she mus' be pas'."
"No hurry—wait a minute, please,"
Say Louis Desjardins,
"We 'll have a smoke before we 're t'roo,
'T will never hurt mese'f or you
To try a pipe, or mebbe two,
Of tabac Canayen." [1]
"Wan pipe is all I want for me—
We 'll finish our smoke downstair,"
De devil say, an' it was enough,
For w'en he tak' de very firse puff
He holler out, "Maudit! w'at stuff!
Fresh air! fresh air!! fresh air!!!"
An' oh! he was never sick before
Till he smoke tabac Bruneau—
Can't walk or fly, but he want fresh air,
So Louis put heem on rockin' chair
An' t'row heem off on de road out dere—
An' tole heem go below.
An' he shut de door an' fill de place
Wit' tabac Canayen,
An' never come out, an' dat 's a fac'—
But smoke away till hees face is black—
So dat 's w'y de devil don't come back
For Louis Desjardins.
An' dere he 's yet, an' dere he 'll stay—
So weech of de two 'll win
Can't say for dat—it 's kin' of a doubt,
For Louis, de pipe never leave hees mout',
An' night or day can't ketch heem out,
An' devil 's too scare go in.
[1] Canadian tobacco.