William Henry Drummond: Verses about Mother

Here's to you, Uncle Kruger! slainté!
an' slainté galore.
You 're a dacint ould man, begorra; never
mind if you are a Boer.
So with heart an' a half ma boucahl, we 'll
drink to your health to-night
For yourself an' your farmer sojers gave us a
damn good fight.

I was dramin' of Kitty Farrell, away in the
Gap o' Dunloe,
When the song of the bugle woke me, ringin'
across Glencoe;
An' once in a while a bullet came pattherin'
from above,
That tould us the big brown fellows were send-
in' us down their love.

'Twas a kind of an invitation, an' written in
such a han'
That a Chinaman could n't refuse it- not to
spake of an Irishman.
So the pickets sent back an answer. 'We're
comin' with right good will,'
Along what they call the kopje, tho' to me it
looked more like a hill.

'Fall in on the left,' sez the captain, 'my
men of the Fusiliers;
You 'll see a great fight this morning -like
you have n't beheld for years.'
'Faith, captain dear,' sez the sergeant, 'you
can bet your Majuba sword
If the Dutch is as willin' as we are, you never
spoke truer word.'

So we scrambled among the bushes, the bowl-
ders an' rocks an' all,
Like the gauger's men still-huntin' on the
mountains of Donegal;
We doubled an' turned an' twisted the same
as a hunted hare,
While the big guns peppered each other over
us in the air.

Like steam from the divil's kettle the kopje
was bilin' hot,
For the breeze of the Dutchman's bullets was
the only breeze we got;
An' many a fine boy stumbled, many a brave
lad died,
When the Dutchman's message caught him
there on the mountainside.

Little Nelly O'Brien, God help her! over
there at ould Ballybay,
Will wait for a transvaal letter till her face an'
her hair is grey,
For I seen young Crohoore on a stretcher, an'
I knew the poor boy was gone
When I spoke to the ambulance doctor,an' he
nodded an' then passed on.

'Steady there!' cried the captain, 'we must
halt for a moment here,'
An' he spoke like a man in trainin' , full winded
an' strong an' clear.
So we threw ourselves down on the kopje,
weary an' tired as death,
Waitin' the captain 's orders, waitin' to get a
breath.

It 's strange all the humours an' fancies that
comes to a man like me;
But the smoke of the battle risin' took me
across the sea-
It 's the mist of Benbo I 'm seein'; an' the
rock that we 'll capture soon
Is the rock where I shot the eagle, when I was
a small gosson.

I close my eyes for a minute, an' hear my poor
mother say,
'Patrick, avick, my darlin', you 're surely not
goin' away
To join the red-coated sojers?'- but the
blood in me was strong-
If your sire was a Connaught Ranger, sure
where would his son belong?

Hark! whisht! do you hear the music comin'
up from the camp below?
An odd note or two when the Maxims take
breath for a second or so,
Liftin' itself on somehow, stealin' its way up
here,
Knowin' there 's waitin' to hear it, many an
Irish ear.

Augh! Garryowen! you 're the jewel! an' we
charged on the Dutchman's guns,
An' covered the bloody kopje, like a Galway
greyhound runs,
At the top of the hill they met us, with faces
all set and grim;
But they could n't take the bayonet - that 's
the trouble with most of thim.

So of course, they 'll be praisin' the Royals
an' men of the Fusiliers,
An' the newspapers help to dry up the widows
an' orphans' tears,
An' they 'll write a new name on the colors-
that is, if there 's room for more
An' we 'll follow them thro' the battle, the same
as we 've done before.

But here 's to you, Uncle Kruger! slainté! an'
slainté galore.
After all, you 're a dacint Christian, never
mind if you are a Boer.
So with heart an' a half, ma boucahl, we 'll
drink to your health to-night,
For yourself an' your brown-faced Dutchmen
gave us a damn good fight.

O I'm very very tire Marie,
I wonder if I'm able hol' a gun
An' me dat 's alway risin' wit' de sun
An' travel on de water, an' paddle ma canoe
An' trap de mink an' beaver de fall an' winter
t'roo,
But now I t'ink dat fun is gone forever.

Wall! I'm mebbe stayin' long enough,
For eighty-four I see it on de spring;
Dough ma fader he was fellin' purty tough
An' at ninety year can do mos' ev'ry t'ing,
But I never know de feller, don't care how ole
he come,
Dat is n't sure to t'ink he 's got anoder year,
ba gum!
Before he lif' de anchor for de las' tam!

It 's not so easy lyin' on de bed,
An' lissen to de wil' bird on de bay,
Dey know dat poor bateese is nearly dead,
Or dey would n't have such good fun ev'ry
day!
Put ma gun upon de piller near de winder, jus'
for luck,
Den bring w'ere I can see dem, ma own nice
leetle duck
So I have some talk wit' dem mese'f dis
morning.

Ah! dere you 're comin' now! mes beaux
canards!
Dat 's very pleasan'day, an' how you feel?
Of course you dunno w'at I want you for,
Wall! lately I've been t'inkin a good deal
Of all de fuss I 'm havin' show you w'at you
ought to do
W'en de cole win' of October de blin' is blow-
ing t'roo
An' de bluebill 's flyin' up an' down de reever.

O! de bodder I 'm havin' wit' you all!
It 's makin' me feel ole before ma tam!
Stan' over dere upon de right again de wall,
Ma-dame Lapointe - I'm geevin' you Ma-
dame
'Cos you walk aroun' de sam' way as ma cousin
Aurelie
An' lak youse'f she 's havin' de large large
familee,
Now let us see you don 't forget your lesson!

Qu a-a-ck! you 're leetle hoarse to-day, don't
you t'ink?
Quack! quack! quack! dat 's right Mam-
zelle Louise!
You go lak dat, an' quicker dan a wink,
It 'll ring across de lake along de breeze,
Till de wil' bird dey will lissen up de reever
far an' near,
An' tole de noder wan too, de musique dey was
hear
An' dey 'll fly aroun' our head before we know
it.

Come here, Francois, an' min' you watch
yourse'f!
You can 't forget de las' day we was out,
Your breat'dere's very leetle of it lef'
An' tole you it was better shut your mout'
W'en you start dat fancy yellin', for it soun'
de sam' to me
Lak de devil he was goin' on de beeges' kin'
of spree,
Francois! dat 's not de way for mak'de
shootin' !

Wan-two-t'ree, -now let us hear you please,
It is n't vey hard job if you try,
Purten' you 're feelin' lonesome lak Louise
An' want to see de sweetheart bimeby,
Quack! quack! quack!
O! stop dat sreechin', don 't never spik no
more
For if anyt'ing, sapree, tonnerre! you're worser
dan before,
I wonder w'at you do wit' all your schoolin'!

Come out from onderneat' de bed, Lisette,
I believe you was de fattes' of de lot;
It 's handy too of course, for you never feel de
wet,
An' w'en you lak to try it, O! w'at a voice
you got!
So let us play it's blowin' hard, an' duck is up
de win'
An' you want to reach dem- sure- now we're
ready for begin,
Hooraw! an' never min' de noise dat you 're
makin'.

Quack! quack! quack! quack! O! let me
tak' de gun
For I would n't be astonish w'en Lisette is
get de start,
Roun' de house dey 'll come a-flyin', an' den
we 'll have de fun!
Yass, yass, kip up de flappin' , O! ain 't
she got the heart!
Not many duck can beat her, an' I wish I had
some more,
Can mak'de song lak dat upon de water!

Dat 's very funny how it ketch de crowd!
An' now dey 're goin, all de younger wan!
But if you don 't stop singin' out so loud,
I 'm sorry I mus' tole you all begone,
'Cos I want to go to sleep. for I ', very very
tire,
An' de shiver 's comin' on me! so Marie poke
up de fire
An' mebber I 'll feel better on de morning.


De leetle duck may call on de spring tam an'
de fall
W'en dey see de wil' bird flyin' on de air
Dey may cry aroun' hees door, but he 'll never
come no more
For showin' dem de lesson! ole Jean Bateese
Belair.

De corduroy road go bompety bomp,
De corduroy road go jompety jomp,
An' he' s takin'beeg chances upset hees load
De horse dat 'll trot on de corduroy road.

Of course it's purty rough, but it's handy
t'ing enough
An' dey mak' it wit' de log all jine togeder
W'en deystrek de swampy groun' w' ere de
Water hang aroun'
Or passin'by some tough ole beaver medder.

But it' s not macadamize, so if you're only
wise
You will tak' your tam an' never min' de
worry
For de corduroy is bad, an' will mak' you
plaintee mad
By de way de buggy jomp, in case you hurry.

An' I' m sure you don't expec' leetle Victorine
Leveque
She was knowin' moche at all about dem
places,
'Cos she's never dere before, till young Zeph-
irin Madore
He was takin' her away for see de races.

O, I wish you see her den, dat's before she
marry, w' en
She's de fines' on de lan' but no use talkin'
I can bet you w'at you lak, if you meet her
you look back
Jus' to watch de fancy way dat girl is walkin'.

Yass de leetle Victorine was de nices' girl be-
tween
De town of Yamachiche an' Maskinongé,
But she's stuck up an' she's proud, an' you 'll
never count de crowd
Of de boy she geev' it w'at dey call de congé.

Ah! De moder spoil her sure, for even Joe
D'Amour
W'en he's ready nearly ev'ry t'ing to geev
her
If she mak' de mariée, only say, 'please go
away'
An' he's riches habitant along de reever.

Zephirin he try it too, an' he's workin' some-
t'ing new
For he's makin' de ole woman many presen'
Prize package on de train, umbrella for de rain
But she' s grompy all de tam, an' never
pleasan'.

Wall, w'en he ax Ma-dame tak' de girl away
dat tam
See dem races on Sorel wit' all de trotter
De moder say 'All right if you bring her
home to-night
Before de cow'smilk, I let go, ma
daughter.'

So Victorin she go wit' Zephirin her beau
On de yankee buggy mak' it on St. Bruno
An' w'en dey pass hotel on de middle of Sorel
Dey're puttin' on de beeges' style dat you
know.

Wall! dey got some good horse dere, but
Zephirin don't care
He's back it up hees own paroisse, ba golly,
An' he mak' it t'ree doll-arr w'en Maskinongé
Star
On de two mile heat was beatin' Sorel Molly.

Victorin don't min' at all, till de 'free for
all' dey call
Dat's de las' race dey was run before de snow fly
Den she say 'I t'ink de cow mus'be getting'
home soon now
An' you know it's only clock ole woman go by.

An' if we're comin'late w'en de cow pass on
de gate
You'll be sorry if you hear de way she talk
dere,
So w'en I see de race on Sorel or any place
After dis, you may be sure I got to walk dere.'


Den he laugh dat Zephirin, an' he say 'Your
poor mama
I know de pile she t'ink about her daughter
So we'll tak' de sshort road back on de cor-
duroy race track
Don't matter if we got to sweem de water.'

No wonder he is smile till you hear heem half
a mile
For dat morning he was tole hees leetle broder
Let de cattle out de gate, so he know it's
purty late
By de tam dem cow was findin' out each oder.

So along de corduroy de young girl an' de boy
Dey was kipin' up a joggin' nice an' steady
It is n't heavy load, an' Guillaume he know de
road
For many tam he's been dat way already.

But de girl she fin' it slow, so she ax de boy
to go
Somet'ing better dan a mile on fifteen minute
An' he's touch heem up Guillaume; so dat
horse he lay for home
an' de nex' t'ing Victorine she know she's
in it.

'O, pull him in, 'she yell, 'for even on Sorel
I am sure I never see de quicker racer,'
But it's leetle bit too late, for de horse is get
hees gait
an' de worse of all ba gosh! Guillaume's a
pacer.

See hees tail upon de air, no wonder she was
scare
But she hang on lak de winter on T'ree
Reever
Cryin' out- 'please hol' me tight, or I'm
comin'dead to-night
An' ma poor ole moder dear, I got to leave
her.'

Wit'her arm aroun' hees wais': she was doin'
it in case
She bus'her head, or keel herse'f, it's not so
easy sayin'
Dey was comin' on de jomp t'roo dat dam ole
beaver swamp
An' meet de crowd is lookin' for dem cow was
go a-stayin'.

Den she's cryin', Victorine, for she's knowin'
w'at it mean
De parish dey was talkin' firse chances dey be
gettin',
But no sooner dat young man stop de horse,
he tak' her han'
An' w'isper 'never min', ma chere, won't do
no good a-frettin'.'

Non! she is n't cryin' long, for he tole her it
was wrong
She 's sure he save her life too, or she was
moche mistaken,
An' de ole Ma-dame Leveque also kiss heem,
on de neck
An'quickly affer dat Hooraw! de man an' wife
dey're makin'.