Las' night dey 're passin', de golden plover,
Dis mornin' I 'm seein' de bluebird's wing,
So if not'ing go wrong, de winter 's over,
An' not very long till we got de spring.
An' nex' t'ing de reever she 'll start a-hummin',
An' den you 'll hear it, de song an' laugh,
Is tellin' de news, de boys are comin'
Home again on de saw-log raf'.
All very well for see dem swingin'
Roun' de beeg islan' dere on de bay,
Nice t'ing too, for to hear dem singin',
'Cos it mak' me t'ink of de good ole day.
An' me—I could lissen dem song forever,
But it is n't so pleasan' w'en evenin' fall,
An' dey 're lookin' for place to stay, an' never
Snub de raf' on ma place at all—-
Dat 's de fine cove if dey only know it—
Hard to fin' better on St. Maurice,
Up de reever or down below it,
An' house on de hill only leetle piece.
W'at is de reason den, w'en dey fin' dem
Raf' comin' near me, dey all get scare,
An' pull lak de devil was close behin' dem,
An' 'way down de reever to Joe Belair?
Two mile more, wit' de rock an' stone dere,
An' water so shallow can't float canoe,
But ev'ry boy of de gang, he 's goin' dere,
Even de cook, an' de captain too—
W'at is de reason, I lak to know—me—
Ma own leetle cove 's lyin' empty dere,
An' nobody stop till dey go below me,
Snubbin' de raf' on Joe Belair?
Not'ing lak dat twenty year ago, sir,
W'en voyageurs' comin' from up above,
Dere 's only wan place us feller know, sir,
W'en dey 're goin' ashore, an' dat's de cove.
An' dere on door of de house she 's stan'nin'
To welcome us back, Madame Baribeau,
An' Pierre hese'f, he was on de lan'nin',
Ready for ketchin' de rope we t'row.