You ‘member de ole log-camp, Johnnie, up on de Cheval Gris,
W’ere we work so hard all winter, long ago you an’ me?
Dere was fourteen man on de gang, den, all from our own paroisse,
An’ only wan lef’ dem feller is ourse’f an’ Pierre Laframboise.
But Pierre can’t see on de eye, Johnnie, I t’ink it’s no good at all!
An’ it wasn’t for not’ing, you’re gettin’ rheumateez on de leg las’ fall!
I t’ink it’s no use waitin’, for neider can come wit’ me,
So alone I mak’ leetle visit dat camp on de Cheval Gris.
An’ if only you see it, Johnnie, an’ change dere was all aroun’,
Ev’ryt’ing gone but de timber an’ dat is all fallin’ down;
No sign of portage by de reever w’ere man dey was place canoe,
W’y, Johnnie, I’m cry lak de beb
(William Henry Drummond)
More Poetry from William Henry Drummond:
William Henry Drummond Poems based on Topics: Winter- De Stove Pipe Hole (William Henry Drummond Poems)
- De Papineau Gun (William Henry Drummond Poems)
- Child Thoughts (William Henry Drummond Poems)
- Autumn Days (William Henry Drummond Poems)
- De Nice Leetle Canadienne (William Henry Drummond Poems)
- Bateese The Lucky Man (William Henry Drummond Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Winter PoemsBased on Keywords: portage, gris, cheval, neider, ryt, ourse, beb