"It 's not our fault, dat 's all explain—
Dere 's no use talk of Waterloo,
Not our affair—" an' off again
He hammer, hammer on de shoe,
An' don't say not'ing more,
But w'issle "Madame Isabeau,"
Good news lak dat is cheer heem so—
Den tak' a drink before we go,
De poor ole Telesphore!
An' now he 's gone! Wall! I dunno,
Can't say—he 's better off meb-be,
Don't work so hard on w'ere he go—
Dat 's wan t'ing sure I 'm t'inkin'—me—
Unless he los' hees track.
But w'en dat boy come runnin' in
De leetle shop, an' start begin
On Poirier's rooster, how he win—
I lak to break hees back.
Poor Telesphore was tellin' how
Joe Monferrand can't go to sleep,
Until he 's kickin' up de row,
Den pile dem nearly ten foot deep,
Dem English sojer man—
Can't blame de crowd dey all hooraw,
For bes' man on de Ottawaw,
An' geev' t'ree cheer for Canadaw,
De very bes' dey can.
An' Telesphore again he start
For tell de story leetle more,
Anoder wan before we part,
W'en bang! a small boy t'roo de door
On w'at you call "full pelt,"
Is yellin' till it reach de skies,
"Poirier's rooster got de prize,
Poirier's rooster got de prize,
An' win de Champion belt!"
An' sure enough, he beat dem all,
Joe Poirier's leetle red game bird,
On beeges' show dey have dis fall,—
De Yankee rooster only t'ird
An' Irish number two—
We hear a jump, an' Telesphore—
I never see de lak before—
He flap hees wing upon de floor
An' cock a doodle doo!
Dat 's finish heem, he 's gone at las',
An' never come aroun' again—
We 'll miss heem w'en we 're goin' pas',
An' see no light upon de pane—
But pleasure we have got,
We 'll kip it on de memory yet,
An' dough of course we 'll offen fret,
Dere 's wan t'ing sure, we 'll not forget
Poor Telesphore Cadotte!
