William Henry Drummond

Name: The Voyageur and Other Poems
Author: William Henry Drummond

Biographical details

William Henry Drummond (1854-1907) published works such as The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems, The Voyageur and Other Poems and The Last Portage. These writings evoke W'en, tam and plaintee.

Quotes by William Henry Drummond

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ In the days of the "Old Regime" in Canada, the free life of the woods and prairies proved too tempting for the young men, who frequently deserted civilization for the savage delights of the wilderness. These voyageurs and coureurs de bois seldom returned in the flesh, but on every New Year's Eve, back thro' snowstorm and hurricane—in mid-air—came their spirits in ghostly canoes, to join, for a brief spell, the old folks at home and kiss the girls, on the annual feast of the "Jour de l'an," or New Year's Day. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ O spirit of the mountain! that speaks to us to-night,
Return again and bring us new dreams of past delight,
And while our heart-throbs linger, and till our pulses cease,
We'll worship thee among the hills where flows the Saint-Maurice. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ N'est-elle pas, en effet, d'une originalité peu commune, l'idée de prendre un pauvre illettré, de le présenter comme un type national à part, de lui mettre aux lèvres une langue qui n'est pas la sienne et qu'il ne connaît qu' à demi; d'en faire en même temps un personnage bon, doux, aimable, honnête, intelligent et droit, l'esprit en éveil, le coeur plein d'une poésie native stimulant son patriotisme, jetant un rayon lumineux dans son modeste intérieur, berçant ses heures rêveuses de souvenirs lointains et mélancoliques? ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Who can blame them, who can blame us
If we tell ourselves with pride
How a thousand years to tame us
The foe has often tried—
And should e'er the Empire need us,
She'll require no chains to lead us,
For we are Empire's children—
But Canadian over all. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ 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! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ Qu'il mette en scène le gros fermier fier de son bien ou de ses filles à marier, le vieux médecin de campagne ne comptant plus ses états de service, le jeune amoureux qui rêve au clair de la lune, le vieillard qui repasse en sa mémoire la longue suite des jours révolus, le conteur de légendes, l'aventurier des "pays d'en haut," et même le Canadien exilé—le Canadien errant, comme dit la chanson populaire—qui croit toujours entendre résonner à son oreille le vague tintement des cloches de son village ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Funny feller 's w'at dey call me—"so diff'ren' from de res',"
But ev'rybody got hees fault, as far as I can see—
An' all de t'ing I 'm doin', I do it for de bes',
Dough w'en I 'm bettin' on a race, dat 's often loss for me—
"Oho!" I say, "Alphonse ma frien', to-day is not your day,
For more you got your money up, de less your trotter go—
But never min' an' don't lie down," dat 's w'at I alway say,
An' sing de sam' ole song some more, mebbe a leetle slow—
"Jus' tak' your chance, an' try your luck." ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ La peinture qu'en fait le poète est on ne peut plus sympathique et juste; et de semblables procédés ne peuvent que cimenter l'union de coeur et d'esprit qui doit exister entre toutes les fractions qui composent la grande famille canadienne appelée à vivre et à prospérer sous la même loi et le même drapeau. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ An' res' of de tam w'en de sport is troo,
You 'll pass wit' me down below."
An' dis is de night of de year, Marie,
Bruno de hunter wake:
Soon as de great beeg tonder cloud
Up on de mountain 's roarin' loud—
He 'll come from hees grave w'ere de pine tree crowd
De shore of de leetle lake.
You see de lightning zig, zig, Marie,
Spittin' lak' loup cervier, [2]
Ketch on de trap? Oh! it won't be long
Till mebbe you lissen anoder song,
For de sky is dark an' de win' is strong,
An' de chase is n't far away. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ Mais comment, sans tomber dans la charge ou la bouffonnerie, faire parler systématiquement à ses personnages une langue étrangère, forcément incorrecte dans la bouche de quelqu'un qui l'a apprise par oreille, sans savoir lire même dans sa propre langue?
La tentative était hardie; mais on sait que le succès a un faible pour les audacieux. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ All on account of de wife too,
An' I know you 'll be sorry 'bout dat poor feller,
I know you 'll be sorry for Joe Boucher.
De nam' dat girl she 's Azeel-daw,
An' purty good worker, too, dey say—
She don't lose chance for a brave garçon,
An' so she marry Joe Boucher.
Now he 's los' hees life too,
All on account of de wife too,
An' I know you 'll be sorry 'bout dat poor feller,
I know you 'll be sorry for Joe Boucher.
Den off on de wood poor Joe he lef',
An' w'en he 's home wit' de bird in spring,
An' fin' leetle feller jus' lak hese'f,
Mebbe Joe don't dance an' Joe don't sing! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ An' if he ketch me on de house I'm scare he's killin' me,
So I mus' lef' ole St. Mathieu, for work on 'noder place,
An' till I mak de beeg for-tune, you never see ma face."
Den Emmeline say "Dominique, ma love you'll alway be
An' if you kiss me two, t'ree tam I'll not tole noboddy—
But prenez garde ma fader, please, I know he's gettin ole—
All sam' he offen walk de house upon de stockin' sole.
"Good-bye, good-bye, cher Dominique! I know you will be true,
I don't want no riche feller me, ma heart she go wit' you." ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Lak de young Jesu w'en he 's here below
De face of ma leetle son look jus' so—
Den off beyon', on de bush I see
De w'ite dress fadin' among de tree—
Was it a dream I dream las' night
Is goin' away on de morning light?
Getting On I know I 'm not too young, an' ma back is not as straight
As it use to be some feefty year ago—
Don't care to go aroun' if de rain is fallin' down
'Less de rheumateez is ketch me on de toe—
But dat is ma beez-nesse, an' no matter how I feel—-
Oder folk dey might look out deir own affair
'Stead o' w'isperin', "Wall! bâ Gosh! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ For spen' wit' us de winter tam, mon cher petit oiseau!
We alway know you're comin', w'en we hear de firs' beeg storm,
A sweepin' from de sky above, an' screamin' as she go—
Can tell you're safe inside it, w'ere you're keepin' nice an' warm,
But no wan's never see you dere, mon cher petit oiseau!
Was it 'way behin' de mountain, dat de nort' win' ketch you sleepin'
Mebbe on your leetle nes' too, an' before de wing she grow,
Lif' you up an' bring you dat way, till some morning fin' you peepin'
Out of new nes' on de snow dreef, mon pauv' petit oiseau! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Twenty year so hard we 're workin', twenty year reapin', sowin',
Choppin' tree an' makin' portage, an' de chil'ren help us too—
But it 's never feelin' lonesome w'ile de familee is growin',
An' de cradle seldom empty, an' we got so moche to do.
Den w'en all de work is finish, w'at dey 're callin' de surveyor
He 's comin' here an' fin' us, an' of course so well he might—
For it 's easy job to foller, w'en de road is lyin' dere,
So blin' man he can walk it wit' hees eyes closed, darkes' night. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ W'en he 's lyin' dere asleep upon de bed,
If you do, you say to me, "W'at an angel he mus' be,
An' dere can't be not'ing bad upon hees head."
Many t'ank for your advice, an' it may be good for some,
But de reason you was geev' it is n't very hard to seek—
Yass! it 's easy seein' now w'en de talk is over, how
You dunno ma leetle boy Dominique?
Home "Oh! Mother the bells are ringing as never they rang before,
And banners aloft are flying, and open is every door,
While down in the streets are thousands of men I have never seen—
But friendly are all the faces—oh! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ More finer dan de Presbytere, w'en I am come riche man!"
I say "For w'at you spik lak dat? you must be gone crazee
Dere's plaintee feller on de State, more smarter dan you be,
Beside she's not so healtee place, an' if you mak' l'argent,
You spen' it jus' lak Yankee man, an' not lak habitant.
"For me Bateese! I tole you dis: I'm very satisfy—
De bes' man don't leev too long tam, some day Ba Gosh! he die—
An' s'pose you got good trotter horse, an' nice famme Canadienne
Wit' plaintee on de house for eat—W'at more you want ma frien'?" ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ 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.
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." ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ An' it's den you be let her go, Johnnie, till roof she was mos' cave in,
An' if dere's firs' prize on de singin', Bagosh! you're de man can win!
Affer dat come fidelle of Joe Pilon, an' he's feller can make it play,
So we're clearin' de floor right off den, for have leetle small danser.
An' w'en dance she was tout finis, Johnnie, I go de sam' bunk wit' you
W'ere we sleep lak two broder, an' dream of de girl on Riviere du Loup,
Very nice ontil somebody call me, it soun' lak de boss Pelang,
"Leve toi, Jeremie ma young feller, or else you'll be late on de gang." ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ An' dere, on de bar-room sleepin', de man he is lookin' for.
Drunk? he is worse dan ever—poor leetle man! too bad!
Lissen to not'ing neider, but Johnnie is feel so glad
Ketchin' heem dere so easy, 'fore he can answer, "No"—
He 's tyin' heem on de buggy, an' off on de road he go—
Half o' de journey 's over, half o' de night is pass,
W'en Doctor Hilaire stop swearin', an' start to get quiet at las'—
Don't do any good ax Johnnie lettin' heem loose again,
For if any man tak' de chances, would n't be Johnnie Dufresne.
Hooraw for de black horse trotter! hooraw for de feller drive! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ Till de cook say "'Raw for breakfas'," den we smell de pork an' bean.
Some folk say she's bad for leever, but for man work hard on reever,
Dat's de bes' t'ing I can tole you, dat was never yet be seen,
Course dere's oder t'ing ah tak' me, fancy dish also I lak me,
But w'en I want somet'ing solid, please pass me de pork an' bean.
All dis tam de raf' she's goin' lak steamboat was got us towin'
All we do is keep de channel, an' dat's easy workin' dere,
So we sing some song an' chorus, for de good tam dat's before us,
W'en de w'ole beez-nesse she's finish, an' we come on Trois Rivieres. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Keep Out of the Weeds No smarter man you can never know
W'en I was a boy, dan Pierre Nadeau,
An' quiet he 's too, very seldom talk,
But got an eye lak de mountain hawk,
See all aroun' heem mos' ev'ryw'ere,
An' not many folk is foolin' Pierre.
Offen I use to be t'inkin'—me—
How on de worl' it was come to be
He know so moche, w'en he never go
On college or school, ole Pierre Nadeau,
Feesh on de reever de summer t'roo,
An' trap on de winter—dat 's all he do.
"Hi! boy—Hi! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ An offen w'en we are alone, we lak for spik about
De tam w'en we was come beeg man, wit' moustache on our mout'.
Bateese is get it on hees head, he's too moche educate
For mak' de habitant farmerre—he better go on State—
An' so wan summer evening we're drivin' home de cow
He's tole me all de whole beez-nesse—jus' lak you hear me now.
"W'at's use mak' foolish on de farm? dere's no good chances lef'
An' all de tam you be poor man—you know dat's true you'se'f;
We never get no fun at all—don't never go on spree
Onless we pass on 'noder place, an' mak' it some monee. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ 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, no not'ing, dere 's de sleigh
An' trotter waitin' too.
W'en t'orty year is nearly t'roo
An' devil 's not come back
'Course Louis say, 'Wall! he forget
Or t'ink de tam 's not finish yet ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ An' if I marry on dat girl, Bagosh! she's lak de Queen.
"I want you mak de promise now, before it's come too late,
An' I mus' tole you dis also, dere's not moche tam for wait.
Your foot she's hangin' down so low, I'm 'fraid she ketch de cole,
Wall! if you give me Emmeline, I pull you out de hole."
Dat mak' de ole man swear more hard he never swear before,
An' wit' de foot he's got above, he's kick it on de floor,
"Non, non," he say "Sapré tonnerre! she never marry you,
An' if you don't look out you get de jail on St. Mathieu." ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ But no gettin' off—mus' strike wit' de res',
No matter—it might be worse—
We 're savin' along—never lose a day,
An' ready w'en bugle blow—"
But dat was de very las' word she say,
For dere it commence to go,
Blowin' away on de mountain dere,
W'ere snow very seldom melts,
Down by de reever an' ev'ryw'ere,
We could n't hear not'ing else—
Nobody stop to fin' out de place,
Too busy for dat to-day—
But we never forget de law in de case
W'en feller he spik dis way—
"Strike for your home an' your own contree! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ An' "tabac Canayen" bedamme! he won't smoke dat at all!—
But fancy drink lak "Collings John" de way he put it down
Was long tam since I don't see dat—I t'ink he's goin' drown!—
An' fine cigar cos' five cent each, an' mak' on Trois-Rivières
L'enfant! he smoke beeg pile of dem—for monee he don't care!—
I s'pose meseff it's t'ree o'clock w'en we are t'roo dat night
Bateese, hees fader come for heem, an' tak' heem home all right
De ole man say Bateese spik French, w'en he is place on bed—
An' say bad word—but w'en he wake—forget it on hees head—
Wall! ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Off on de great beeg city, makin' de money quick,
W'ere ev'ry wan want de doctor w'enever he 's leetle sick.
"Remember de way to get heem is tell heem it's bad, bad case,
Or Doctor Hilaire you 'll never see heem upon dis place!
Tell heem dere 's two life waitin', an' sure to be comin' die
Unless he is hurry quicker dan ever de bird can fly.
"T'orty mile crick is runnin' over de road, I 'm sure,
But if you can fin' de crossin' you 'll ketch heem at Beausejour.
Sober or drunk, no matter, bring heem along you mus',
For Doctor Hilaire 's de only man of de lot for us." ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ L'enfant! l'enfant! it's very strange t'ing!
mak' me laugh too w'en I hear
De young peep talk of de long, long tam of
seventy, eighty year!
Dat's only be jus' eighty New Year Day, an'
quickly was pass it by
It's beeg, beeg dream, an' you don't wake up,
till affer you're comin' die.
Dat's true sure enough, you see curi's t'ing,
if you only leev leetle w'ile,
So long you got monee go all de place, for
mebbe t'ree t'ousan' mile,
But monee's not everyt'ing on dis worl', I tole
you dat, mes amis,
An' man can be ole lak' two honder year, an'
not see it, La Chasse Gal'rie. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ Purty long tam for waitin', but poor leetle Belzemire
She 's bad enough now for pay up all of dem twenty year.
Call heem de oldes' doctor, call heem de younges' wan,
Bring dem along, no matter if ev'ry dollar 's gone—
T'ree of dem can't do not'ing, workin' for two days dere,
She was a very sick woman, Belzemire Lafreniere.
Pierre he was cryin', cryin' out on de barn behin',
Neighbors tryin' to kip heem goin' right off hees min',
W'en somebody say, "Las' winter, ma wife she is nearly go,
An' who do you t'ink is save her? ev'ry wan surely know.
"Drink? does he drink de w'isky? ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ Long tam' for our moder so far away de poor Canayens is cry,
But de new step-moder she's good an' kin', an' it's all right bimeby.
If de moder come dead w'en you're small garçon leavin' you dere alone,
Wit' nobody watchin' for fear you fall, an hurt youse'f on de stone,
An' 'noder good woman she tak' your han' de sam' your own moder do,
Is it right you don't call her moder, is it right you don't love her too?
Bâ non, an' dat was de way we feel, w'en de ole Regime's no more,
An' de new wan come, but don't change moche, w'y it's jus' lak' it be before. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ On church of de Bonsecour
De pries' he mus' rise 'fore de rooster crow,
Or mebbe he 'll be too late
For seein' dere on de street below,
Josette comin' in de gate.
An' half of de mornin' she don't spen' dere
Hangin' aroun' de pew—
Bodderin' God wid de long, long prayer—
For bote of dem got to do
Plaintee work 'fore de day's gone by,
An' well she know—Josette—
No matter how busy an' hard she try,
De work 's never finish yet.
An' well he know it, de habitant,
Who is it ketch heem, w'en
He 's drivin' along from St. ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Habitant and Other French-Canadian Poems

“ An' hear de ole man swear "Bapteme!" he's never come no more.
Young Dominique he's sam' de res',—was scare for ole Maxime,
He don't lak risk hese'f too moche for chances seein' heem,
Dat's only stormy night he come, so dark you cannot see,
An dat's de reason w'y also, he's climb de gallerie.
De girl she's waitin' dere for heem—don't care about de rain,
So glad for see young Dominique he's comin' back again,
Dey bote forget de ole Maxime, an' mak de embrasser
An affer dey was finish dat, poor Dominique is say—
"Good-bye, dear Emmeline, good-bye ”

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Source: Gutenberg

William Henry Drummond, The Voyageur and Other Poems

“ De ole man 's gettin' on.
Pioneers If dey 're walkin' on de roadside, an' dey 're bote in love togeder,
An' de star of spring is shinin' wit' de young moon in between,
It was purty easy guessin' dey 're not talkin' of de wedder,
W'en de boy is comin' twenty, an' de girl is jus' eighteen.
It 's a sign de winter 's over, an' it 's pleasan' hear de talkin'
Of de bull-frog on de swamp dere wit' all hees familee—
But it 's lonesome doin' not'ing, an' dere 's not moche fun in walkin',
So we fin' some fence dat 's handy for mese'f an' Rosalie. ”

William Henry Drummond

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