The Voyageur and Other Poems | Page 3

call style, an' puttin' on side,
W'ere is de man can go before
De
pig-sticker champion of Ste. Flore?
Use to be nice man too, dey say,
Jeremie Bonami,
Talk wit' hees
frien' in a frien'ly way
Sam' as you'se'f an' me--
Of course it 's purty
beeg job he got,
An' no wan expec' heem talk a lot,
But still would
n't hurt very moche, I 'm sure,
If wance in a w'ile he 'd say,
"Bonjour."
Yi! Yi! to see heem come down de hill
Some mornin' upon de fall,

W'en de pig is fat an' ready to kill,
He don't know hees frien' at all--

Look at hees face an' it seem to say,
"Important duty I got to-day,

Killin' de pig on de contree side,--
Is n't dat some reason for leetle
pride?"
Lissen de small boy how dey shout
W'en Jeremie 's marchin' t'roo

De market place wit' hees cane feex out
Wit' ribbon red, w'ite an'
blue--
An' den he jomp on de butcher's block,
An' affer de crowd is
stop deir talk,
An' leetle boy holler no more "Hooray,"
Dis is de
word Jeremie he say--
"I 'm de only man on de w'ole Ste. Flore
Can kill heem de pig jus'
right,
Please t'ink of dat, an' furdermore
Don't matter it 's day or
night,
Can do it less tam, five dollar I bet,
Dan any pig-sticker you
can get
From de w'ole of de worl', to w'ere I leev'--
Will somebody
help to roll up ma sleeve?

"Some feller challenge jus' here an' dere,
An' more on deir own
contree,
But me--I challenge dem ev'ryw'ere
All over de
worl'--sapree!
To geev' dem a chance, for dere might be some
Beeg
feller, for all I know,
But if dey 're ready, wall! let dem come,
An'
me--I 'm geevin' dem plaintee show."
Challenge lak dat twenty year or more
He 's makin' it ev'ry fall,
But
never a pig-sticker come Ste. Flore
'Cos Jeremie scare dem all--
No
wonder it 's makin' heem feel so proud,
Even Emperor Germanie

Can't put on de style or talk more loud
Dan Jeremie Bonami.
But Jeremie's day can't las' alway,
An' so he commence to go
W'en
he jomp on de block again an' say
To de crowd stan'nin' dere below,

"Lissen, ma frien', to de word I spik,
For I 'm tire of de challenge
until I 'm sick,
Can't say, but mebbe I 'll talk no more
For glory an'
honor of ole Ste. Flore.
"I got some trouble aroun' ma place
Wit' ma nice leetle girl Rosine,

An' I see w'en I 'm lookin' on all de face,
You 're knowin' jus' w'at I
mean--
Very easy to talk, but w'en dey come
For seein' her twenty
young man ba Gum!
I tole you ma frien', it was purty tough,
'Sides
wan chance in twenty is not enough--
"Now lissen to me, all you young man
Is wantin' ma girl Rosine--
I
offer a chance an' you 'll understan'
It 's bes' you was never seen--

Tree minute start I 'll geev'--no more--
An' if any young feller upon
Ste. Flore
Can beat me stickin' de pig nex' fall,
Let heem marry ma
girl Rosine--dat 's all."
All right--an' very nex' week he start,
De smartes' boy of de lot--

An' he 's lovin' Rosine wit' all hees heart,
De young Adelard
Marcotte--
Don't say very moche about w'ere he go,

But I t'ink
mese'f it was Buffalo--
An' plaintee more place on de State dat's beeg

W'ere he don't do not'ing but stick de pig.

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