The Voyageur and Other Poems | Page 4

Ste. Flore.
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Dieudonné
(GOD-GIVEN)
If I sole ma ole blind trotter for fifty dollar cash
Or win de beeges'
prize on lotterie,
If some good frien' die an' lef' me fines' house on St.
Eustache, You t'ink I feel more happy dan I be?
No, sir! An' I can tole you, if you never know before,
W'y de kettle
on de stove mak' such a fuss,
Wy de robin stop hees singin' an' come
peekin' t'roo de door For learn about de nice t'ing 's come to us--
An' w'en he see de baby lyin' dere upon de bed
Lak leetle Son of
Mary on de ole tam long ago--
Wit' de sunshine an' de shadder makin'
ring aroun' hees head, No wonder M'sieu Robin wissle low.
An' we can't help feelin' glad too, so we call heem Dieudonné; An' he
never cry, dat baby, w'en he 's chrissen by de pries' All de sam' I bet
you dollar he 'll waken up some day,
An' be as bad as leetle boy
Bateese.
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THE DEVIL
Along de road from Bord à Plouffe
To Kaz-a-baz-u-a
W'ere poplar
trees lak sojers stan',
An' all de lan' is pleasan' lan',
In off de road
dere leev's a man
Call Louis Desjardins.
An' Louis, w'en he firse begin
To work hees leetle place,
He work
so hard de neighbors say,
"Unless he tak's de easy way
Dat feller 's
sure to die some day,
We see it on hees face."
'T was lak a swamp, de farm he got,
De water ev'ryw'ere--
Might
drain her off as tight as a drum.
An' back dat water is boun' to come

In less 'n a day or two--ba Gum!
'T would mak' de angel swear.

So Louis t'ink of de bimeby,
If he leev' so long as dat,
W'en he 's
ole an' blin' an' mebbe deaf,
All alone on de house hese'f,
No frien',
no money, no not'ing lef',
An' poor--can't kip a cat.
So wan of de night on winter tam,
W'en Louis is on hees bed,
He
say out loud lak a crazy man,
"I 'm sick of tryin' to clear dis lan',

Work any harder I can't stan',
Or it will kill me dead.
"Now if de devil would show hese'f
An' say to me, 'Tiens! Louis!

Hard tam an' work she 's at an' en',
You 'll leev' lak a Grand Seigneur
ma frien',
If only you 'll be ready w'en
I want you to come wit' me.'
"I 'd say, 'Yass, yass--'maudit! w'at 's dat?'
An' he see de devil dere--

Brimstone, ev'ryt'ing bad dat smell,
You know right away he 's
come from--well,
De place I never was care to tell--
An' wearin'
hees long black hair,
Lak election man, de kin' I mean
You see aroun' church door,

Spreadin' hese'f on great beeg speech
'Bout poor man 's goin' some
day be reech,
But dat 's w'ere it alway come de heetch,
For poor
man 's alway poor.
De only diff'rence--me--I see
'Tween devil an' long-hair man
It 's
hard to say, but I know it 's true,
W'en devil promise a t'ing to do

Dere 's no mistak', he kip it too--
I hope you understan'.
So de devil spik, "You 're not content,
An' want to be reech, Louis--

All right, you 'll have plaintee, never fear,
No wan can beat you far
an' near,
An' I 'll leave you alone for t'orty year,
An' den you will
come wit' me.
"Be careful now--it 's beeg contrac',
So mebbe it 's bes' go slow;
For
me--de promise I mak' to you
Is good as de bank Rivière du Loup

For you--w'enever de tam is due,
Ba tonder! you got to go."

Louis try hard to tak' hees tam
But w'en he see de fall
Comin' along
in a week or so,
All aroun' heem de rain an' snow
An' pork on de
bar'l runnin' low,
He don't feel good at all.
An' w'en he t'ink of de swampy farm
An' gettin' up winter night,

Watchin' de stove if de win' get higher
For fear de chimley go on fire,

It's makin' poor Louis feel so tire
He tell de devil, "All right."
"Correct," dat feller say right away,
"I 'll only say, Au revoir,"
An'
out of de winder he 's goin' pouf!
Beeg nose, long hair, short tail, an'
hoof,
Off on de road to Bord à Plouffe
Crossin' de reever dere.
W'en Louis get up nex' day, ma frien',
Dere 's lot of devil sign--

Bar'l o' pork an' keg o' rye,
Bag o' potato ten foot high,
Pile o' wood
nearly touch de sky,
Was some o' de t'ing he fin'.
Suit o' clothes would have cos' a lot
An' ev'ryt'ing I dunno,
Trotter
horse w'en he want to ride
Eatin' away on de barn outside,
Stan' all
day if he 's never tied,
An' watch an' chain also.
An' swamp dat's bodder heem many tam,
W'ere is dat swamp to-day?

Don't care if you 're huntin' up an' down
You won't fin' not'ing but
medder groun',
An' affer de summer come aroun'
W'ere can you see
such hay?
Wall! de year go by, an' Louis leev'
Widout no work to do,
Rise
w'en he lak on winter day,
Fin' all de snow is clear away,
No fuss,