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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37510-h.zip b/37510-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bc31de --- /dev/null +++ b/37510-h.zip diff --git a/37510-h/37510-h.htm b/37510-h/37510-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3063c5f --- /dev/null +++ b/37510-h/37510-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4557 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of By Trench and Trail in Song and Story, by Angus MacKay</title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 30%; margin-right: 30%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .small {font-size: 70%;} + .big {font-size: 110%;} + .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .chaptertitle {text-align: center; font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 1.5em;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 30%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align:baseline; + position: relative; + bottom: 0.33em; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, By Trench and Trail in Song and Story, by +Angus MacKay, Illustrated by William R. McKay</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: By Trench and Trail in Song and Story</p> +<p>Author: Angus MacKay</p> +<p>Release Date: September 22, 2011 [eBook #37510]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY TRENCH AND TRAIL IN SONG AND STORY***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Linda Cantoni, Bryan Ness, Emmy,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/toronto">http://www.archive.org/details/toronto</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/bytrenchtrailins00mackuoft"> + http://www.archive.org/details/bytrenchtrailins00mackuoft</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>By<br /> +Trench and Trail<br /> + +<span class='small'>IN</span><br /> + +Song and Story</h1> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 386px;"><a name="Frontis" id="Frontis"></a> +<img src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="386" height="600" alt="Forest trail" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/tpage.jpg" width="500" height="264" alt="Title" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<div class='center'>By<br /> +<span class='author'>ANGUS MACKAY</span><br /> +(Oscar Dhu)<br /> + +<br /> +Author of<br /> +<br /> +"Donald Morrison—The Canadian Outlaw"<br /> +"A Tale of the Pioneers"<br /> +"Poems of a Politician"<br /> +"Pioneer Sketches"<br /> +Etc., Etc.<br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> +Illustrated<br /> +<br /><br /><br /> +MACKAY PRINTING & PUBLISHING CO.<br /> +Seattle and Vancouver<br /> +1918<br /> +</div> + + + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span></p> +<div class='copyright'> +Copyright 1918 by<br /> +ANGUS MACKAY<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> + +<h2>INTRODUCTION.</h2> + + +<p>A number of the songs in this collection have +been heard by campfire and trail from the camps +of British Columbia to the lumber camps of Maine. +Several of the songs have been fired at the Huns +"somewhere in France," no doubt with deadly +effect. And also at the Turks on the long long hike +to Bagdad and beyond.</p> + +<p>And it is not impossible that some of my countrymen +are now warbling snatches of my humble verse +to the accompaniment of bagpipes on the streets of +the New Jerusalem! Many of the verses have +appeared from time to time in leading publications +from Vancouver, B. C., to the New England States +and Eastern Canada; while others appear in print +here for the first time.</p> + +<p>From all parts of the land I have received letters +at various times asking for extra copies of some +particular song in my humble collection, which I +was not in a position to supply at the time.</p> + +<p>I therefore decided to publish some of the songs +for which a demand had been expressed, and in so +doing offer to the reading public in extenuation of +my offense the plea that in a manner this humble +volume is being published by request.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> + +<p>I offer no apology for my "dialect" songs as they +have already received the approval of music lovers +whose judgment is beyond criticism.</p> + +<p>For the errors which must inevitably creep into +the work of a non-college-bred lumberjack, I crave +the indulgence of all highbrows who may resent my +inability to comb the classics for copy to please +them. All the merit I can claim is the ability to +rhyme a limerick or sing a "come-all-ye" in a manner +perhaps not unpleasing to my friends.</p> + +<p>The lumberjacks will understand me, I am sure, +and will appreciate my humble efforts to entertain +them.</p> + +<p>As for the genial highbrow, should he deem me +an interloper in the realm of letters and imagine that +my wild, uncultured notes are destroying the harmony +of his supersensitive soul, I shall "lope" back +to the tall timber again and seek sympathy and +appreciation among the lumberjacks of the forest +primeval, where, amid the wild surroundings and the +crooning of the trees, there is health for mind and +body borne on every passing breeze. Yes, there's +something strangely healing in the magic of the +myrrh, in the odor of the cedar and the fragrance +of the fir.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>There the hardy lumberjack is the undisputed +lord of the lowlands and chief of the highlands, and +at the present time no soldier in the trenches or +sailor on the rolling deep has a more arduous task +to perform or a more important duty to discharge +than he.</p> + +<p>Toil on, ye Titans of the tall timbers; steadfast +soldiers of the saw, and able allies of the axe. Carry +on till the stately trees which constitute the glory of +the West are converted into ships and planes in +countless thousands, to win the great war for freedom +and to make the world safe for democracy—and +lumberjacks!</p> + +<div class='sig'> +THE AUTHOR.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span></p> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#Frontis">Frontispiece</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Where the tall, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'magestic'">majestic</ins> pine tree branches wave"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_124">124</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Christmas in Quebec"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Gagne's Cavalry"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Sergeant-Major Larry"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"I am now one lumberjack"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"Another Findlay like your own"</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<div class='center'><br /><br /> +<i>Illustrations by<br /> +Lieutenant William R. McKay<br /> +<span class='small'>with 161st U.S.A. in France</span><br /></i> +</div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'>DESTINY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">There's a grand, grand view unfolding.</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE SONS OF OUR MOTHERS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_12">12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the Ramah's of our day.</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CHRISTMAS IN QUEBEC</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I got notice sometam lately.</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">It is such a fad at present.</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE SULTAN AT POTSDAM</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Mohammed, Dammed gift of God,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>JOHN <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'LABONNS'">LABONNE'S</ins> DREAM</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">All las' night I was me dreaming,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE DERELICT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I will write a short sketch of a free-hearted wretch.</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>GAGNE'S CAVALRY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ma Rosie write to me <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'someting'">somet'ing</ins>,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE GRIPPE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">To see us now deceivers.</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>TRUDEL'S TRAVELS</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Said Joe, I mus' go w'ere de snow she don' blow,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE END OF THE TRAIL</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I was summoned in the gloaming,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>HOMESICK</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I am tire' now for roam Rosemarie,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE GALLANT 58TH</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">O come all ye loyal volunteers,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>THE FENIAN RAID</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">From de country of de Eagle,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A LEAP YEAR PARTY</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The night before last Hallowe'en,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE HOLLERNZOLLERN'S PRAYER</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dear Gott, der weight of "right <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'devine'">divine</ins>,"</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>ALASKA BOUNDARY LINE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Now that little Venezuela,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE GUARD OF LAFAYETTE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ma Rosie say to me today,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE LUMBERJACK</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">We have songs on many topics,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE BOOK AGENT</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The sun rose in beauty,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>JEAN LABONNE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I am now one lumberjack,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>CANADIANS, GUARD YOUR OWN</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_113">113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"On feet of clay," false prophets say,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>GUARD THE GAELIC</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Is it not our bounden right?</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE AMERICAN EAGLE</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">Lofty is thy habitation,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>DONALD <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'MacLEOD'">McLEOD</ins></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">The sun hath set and leaves the day,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>OVER THE TOP</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A lusty lad from Lewis,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>THE ALKALI LAND</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">I left my old home and my friends in the East,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A CHRISTMAS DREAM</td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_135">135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span style="margin-left: 2em;">One Christmas night I sallied forth,</span><br /><br /></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h2>DESTINY</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +There's a grand, grand view unfolding<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And it pictures our future goal:</span><br /> +There's a strong, strong army moulding<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our land into one great whole;</span><br /> +There's a world-wide movement holding<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Firm the lines of our destiny:</span><br /> +And 'twill never cease<br /> +Till the earth finds peace<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the arms of Democracy!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/deco_001.png" width="200" height="176" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE SONS OF OUR MOTHERS</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">In the Ramah's of our day</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Mothers grieve their hearts away,</span><br /> +Mourning comfortless as Rachel did of yore;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hoping day by day to learn</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of their absent boy's return</span><br /> +And to hear his well-known footsteps at the door.<br /> +The lilies are blooming in far-away France—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Bloom O bloom!</span><br /> +The cannons are roaring retreat and advance—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Boom, O boom!</span><br /> +The hell of their fire is falling like rain,<br /> +And our soldiers before it are falling like grain,<br /> +While the voices of loved ones are calling in vain—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Home, sweet home!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Dear Canadians who fell,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Fighting nobly fighting well,</span><br /> +May the angels guard thy rest in lonely graves;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">We'll remember "ridge" and "hill"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And rejoice in knowing, still,</span><br /> +That the dear old flag you died for rules the waves.<br /> +The wild birds are lilting their lay on the breeze,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Soft and low:</span><br /> +As they croon to their nestlings asway in the trees,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">To and fro—</span><br /> +The young of the robin will flit down the glen<br /> +And return in the spring to the dwellings of men,<br /> +But the sons of our mothers return not again—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 7em;">No, ah no!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And the absent from the fold?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">What of those, the gay, the bold?</span><br /> +Fighting bravely, dying nobly, to the fore.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shall we not avenge the slain?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Shall our mothers weep in vain?</span><br /> +Calling, calling for the boys who come no more.<br /> +Dear soldier boys dead in the trenches of war,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Work well done!</span><br /> +Your service for country there's nothing can mar,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Fame well won!</span><br /> +They fought for the right in a cause that will win—<br /> +They died in a fight that they did not begin—<br /> +And you'll pay the last groat when we enter Berlin.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Hun, oh Hun!</span><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 363px;"> +<img src="images/fig_001.png" width="363" height="600" alt="Christmas in Quebec." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Christmas in Quebec.</span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CHRISTMAS IN QUEBEC.</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>This sketch is truer of the Quebec of last century than +that of today. I am glad to hear that whisky blanc does +not "cut the figure" in French festivities now that it did +twenty years ago; and no one will rejoice more than Oscar +Dhu to see the demon rum utterly destroyed in Canada ere +many moons.</p> + +<p>Yes, I sincerely hope that the day will soon dawn when +the baneful influence of both De Kuyper and de Kaiser will +be forever banished from my dear native province, queenly +Quebec!</p></div> +<div class='center'><br /> +——————</div> +<div class='poem'><br /> +I got notice some tam lately<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wrote in Yankee dialec',</span><br /> +Ask me Joe how I spen' Chris'mas<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On de 10 range of Kebec;</span><br /> +<br /> +But ba gosh I don' wrote nottings<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till de New Year pass along.</span><br /> +Chris'mas tam I dance an' fiddle,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eat an' drink an' sing some song!</span><br /> +<br /> +Yes ma frien' dis ol' man's happy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jus' lak' leetle lamb in May!</span><br /> +Ev'ry year I grow lak young one,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">W'en it come to Chris'mas day!</span><br /> +<br /> +Hip ho-orah! I feel lak dancin',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Play for Joe an' kip good tam,</span><br /> +I'm mos' happy man in Weedon,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">On his shanty jus' de sam'.</span><br /> +<br /> +Come Zavier and clear de room off,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' one dance to you I'll show,</span><br /> +Dat I learn on Lampton Corners<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More as t'irty year ago.</span><br /> +<br /> +It's call cris-cross two-step, quick step,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up an' down de center, too;</span><br /> +Right an' lef' and swing you' pardner,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till de tack fly out her shoe!</span><br /> +<br /> +Come I'll show you how to do it,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tak' de one you love de bes',</span><br /> +Den you swing it ro'nd lak swirlwind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or dat slyclone in de Wes'.</span><br /> +<br /> +Whoop up gee' jus wash ma dances<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' hole Paul will kip good tam,</span><br /> +On dis side de Lac St. Francis<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I can skung dem all de sam'.</span><br /> +<br /> +T'ro' dat stool on top de corner,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Push dat cradle from de room,</span><br /> +Joe hee's got dis floor for shak' down<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' he'll swip it lak de broom.</span><br /> +<br /> +Jomp up Jacque! and strak dat ceilin'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till de dus' fall on you' head—</span><br /> +Come Lucinda! stop dat squealin'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or we'll sen' you off to bed.</span><br /> +<br /> +Dis is Chris'mas an' one good one—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Chris'mas come but once a year;</span><br /> +Ope dat stove an' t'row some hood on,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' we'll have one, two, t'ree cheer!</span><br /> +<br /> +Rig a gig a gig jus' wash ma moccasin<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' hole Paul you kip good tam!</span><br /> +Pass dat jug aro'nd de grog-is-in,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An we'll have w'at Scotch call "dram."</span><br /> +<br /> +Pass it ro'nd de room ma Rosie<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' be sure you fill de glass;</span><br /> +Ma Joe sen' me twenty dollair<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jus' las' wick from Lowhell, Mass.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ev'ry year he sen' me monay<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he sen' some ol' clothes too—</span><br /> +But dem duty charge me custom<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jus' de same lak it was new!</span><br /> +<br /> +Shoo! dat dance has mak' me tire—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rosie pass de pipe of clay—</span><br /> +Plenty more rat here in Weedon,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We're Pete Tanguay give it 'way.</span><br /> +<br /> +Here's tobac dat's raise in Compton,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tak' it too an' pass it ro'nd—</span><br /> +Plentay more way do'n at Lampton—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jus' for twenty cent one po'nd.</span><br /> +<br /> +Smoke ma frien' an' take it heasy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till de fiddler res' his bow—</span><br /> +Smudge dis room till it grow hazy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Den we'll have one nodder go!</span><br /> +<br /> +Rig-a-gig-gig jus' wash ma feet go,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Put some movemen' in dat tune;</span><br /> +If a man is want for beat Joe—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mus' get up before its noon!</span><br /> +<br /> +Oh ba gosh! de hole man's happy!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wish you all feel sam' lak me.</span><br /> +Canada's de place spen' Chris'mas<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up at Weedon 'mong de tree!</span><br /> +<br /> +I feel bad for Wilfrid Laurier,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' for all de beeg Frenchman,</span><br /> +Who can nevair know henjoymen'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In dis worl' de sam's I can.</span><br /> +<br /> +Troub' is all he gets for breakfas',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' for dinnair too I guess—</span><br /> +Charlie Tupper's eat for supper—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' hee's awful hard diges'!</span><br /> +<br /> +Den de nightmare kick lak blazes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">W'en a leetle sleep dey foun'—</span><br /> +I can sleep me in dis shanty<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twice as fas' an' twice as soun'.</span><br /> +<br /> +I don' henvey any rich man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He can tak' ma house an' lan',</span><br /> +But he can't tak' ma henjoymen'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lak de res' w'en hee's deman'.</span><br /> +<br /> +Hee's live in one gran' beeg cassil—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All light up wit' 'letric lamp—</span><br /> +I am Joseph in dis shanty,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' my shanty's in de swamp;</span><br /> +<br /> +But ba gosh I'm far more happies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Den beeg man in house of stone—</span><br /> +Byemby he'll be lak Joseph—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Six feet land is all he'll own!</span><br /> +<br /> +Come here Pierre ma troat's grow wheezy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pass de glassware roun' for change—</span><br /> +Wash ma Rosie, a'nt she daisy?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She's de bes' cook on de range.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ev'ry year w'en it come Chris'mas,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rosie geeve me lots to heat—</span><br /> +Pie an' stoughnut—cake an' cookie—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bun an' two t'ree kin' of meat.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ev'ryt'ing she's good for cook it,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' de pork she's good for fry,</span><br /> +She can flip dat bockwheat pancake<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lak de twinkle of you' eye!</span><br /> +<br /> +Yes ba gosh! ma wife hee's good wan,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nevair scold me w'en I'm sick:</span><br /> +An' she raise it twenty young wan<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nevair learn dat "Yankee trick"!</span><br /> +<br /> +Plenty vote to swing de 'lection—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Twenty-two or twenty-three;</span><br /> +But I'm ask for no Protection<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For my Infant Industry!</span><br /> +<br /> +Dat's de cry I like, "all ready"!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sopper's on de tab' at las'—</span><br /> +Girl an' boy fall in ma hearty—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hungry fom de midnight Mass.</span><br /> +<br /> +Come Joseph an' bring Louiser,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don' be squeeze her all night long—</span><br /> +Joe, I know is lak hee's fadder—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jus' de sam' w'en I was young!</span><br /> +<br /> +Now I'll pass de jug for luck, me,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drink de he'lt' of frien' an' foe—</span><br /> +Plenty more at Dudswell Junction,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma frien' Gauthier tole me so.</span><br /> +<br /> +Dis is firs' class liquidation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jus' one glass will pay de tax;</span><br /> +Two or tree will lif' de mortgage—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All de worl' is mine wit' six!</span><br /> +<br /> +What's de use for feel downhearted?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Plenty life in barley juice;</span><br /> +Dat's w'at mak' dis ol' man happy—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But some tam it raise de duce.</span><br /> +<br /> +Eat an' drink an' feel contentmen',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Till de holiday pass by;</span><br /> +Den ol' Joe mus' tackle snow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' chop de hood an' hew de tie.</span><br /> +<br /> +I got credit from de storekeep—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bean an' pork an' pea an' flour,</span><br /> +An' I promise pay in cordhood—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' its tak' me many hour.</span><br /> +<br /> +Scoonkin coat I got from Tanguay,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For to tak' me warm to church,</span><br /> +An' he tole me pay heem sometam',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">W'en I haul de spruce an' birch.</span><br /> +<br /> +Plenty work for Joe in winter—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brak de road an' haul de hood,</span><br /> +But hole Joe hee's nevair worry—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not so long hees he'lt' is good.</span><br /> +<br /> +Dis is holiday at presen',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I won't cut me one dem stick</span><br /> +'Till I have ma Chris'mas hoorah,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' it always las' a wick!</span><br /> +<br /> +Den I'll say good bye to ol' year<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' w'en New Year come on deck,</span><br /> +I'll tole Yankee how ol' Joseph<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Spen' his Chris'mas on Kebec.</span><br /> +<br /> +Rig-a-gig-a-gig, jus' wash me moccasin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' ol' Paul will kip good tam;</span><br /> +Pass de jug aro'n' de grog is in<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' we'll have w'at Scotch call "dram."</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span></p> + +<h2>"THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE."</h2> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>The seeming hostile spirit towards the United States pervading +some of the sketches in this volume is more apparent +than real, as they were introduced in the spirit of fun to +accentuate the oddities of certain characters, and not to +disparage our neighbor; for notwithstanding petty quarrels +and misunderstandings we always loved our great big, bluff +brother to the South.</p> + +<p>We always maintained that closer relationship with our +kindred people was our manifest destiny and that nothing +could happen that would keep us permanently apart. +According to this song, written many years ago, we have +been "interwooing" and "intermarrying" for a long time. +We have been flocking to their cities and they have been +flocking to our farms, and naturally the ties between us +have been growing stronger with the years.</p> + +<p>Consequently when the present great war engulfed the +world in a holocaust of blood, kindred cried to kindred and +the resulting alliance was both natural and logical.</p> + +<p>Time alone can prove the value of the services rendered +the Allied cause in this great war by British Americans and +Americanadians residing in the United States.</p> + +<p>The Germans and pro-Germans of this country thot in +their overweening pride with overbearing Kultur to obtain +a greater "pull" with Uncle Sam than we possessed. By +the most cunning propaganda ever known they endeavored +to widen the breach between brother Jonathan and John +Bull, but failed miserably. While they "hoched" for the +"fatherland" till the cows came home, we "coached" for +the "motherland" till the children came home!</p> + +<p>Kultur may be a powerful persuader but the call of the +blood is more powerful still, and when the old lion roared +his appeal the sound went round the world, and the whelps, +true to their breed, gathered from all corners of the earth, +not into alien jungles, but home! The fur is now flying and +blood is flowing, and when the combatants shall have +emerged from the great conflict the two powerful branches +of the English-speaking peoples will be bound together in +ties of friendship stronger than ever before, and by thunder +they will not be under!</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> + + +<h2>THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE<br /> + +or<br /> + +HOW CANADA AND THE U. S.<br /> +MAY BECOME ONE.</h2> + +<div class='poem'> +It is such a fad at present<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For each poet effervescent,</span><br /> +To assail the "cross" or "crescent"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the "Cleveland message" grim;</span><br /> +That we pondered for a minute<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thinking we would not be "in it"</span><br /> +If we did not aid some Linnet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With a little of our din.</span><br /> +<br /> +Now we're not at'all unwilling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To receive a course of "drilling"</span><br /> +If successful in dispelling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just a little of the mist</span><br /> +Which is hanging thickly over<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our detractor, brother Grover,</span><br /> +And that rank sedition mover,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Called the jingo journalist.</span><br /> +<br /> +There are men among you moving<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who're ostensibly peace loving,</span><br /> +While their conduct's always proving<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The reverse to be their toast;</span><br /> +They eternally are blowing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a game cock, bent on showing</span><br /> +By his loud defiant crowing<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">That he's there to rule the roost!</span><br /> +<br /> +Tho' you send a warlike "message"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do not punctuate its passage</span><br /> +Crying "cut 'em into sassage,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now beware, you crippled cuss":</span><br /> +All such ravings out of season<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Should be classified as treason,</span><br /> +Guard your tongues and use your reason<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In considering the "fuss."</span><br /> +<br /> +If again your mind should rove<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around the field of Carnage Grover,</span><br /> +We would have you think it over<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the light of common sense;</span><br /> +Ponder well the pain and labor<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It would cause to quell your neighbor;</span><br /> +And be sure you hide your saber<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Ere you venture through our fence.</span><br /> +<br /> +Why rely on jingo blowing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you're bent upon subduing</span><br /> +Brave Canadians who've been growing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since they met Montgomery?</span><br /> +Drop your systematic hounding,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And your epithets loud sounding</span><br /> +For we've pipers here abounding<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who could blow you out to sea!</span><br /> +<br /> +If you saw bold piper Ronald<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the warlike Clan Macdonald,</span><br /> +And the way in which he pommelled<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O'er a hundred of your ranks;</span><br /> +You would soon be after wishing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You had always kept a-fishing</span><br /> +Right at home, instead of swishing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Warlines over Britain's banks!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span><br /> +And it seems to us so very<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Queer that Highlanders who quarry</span><br /> +Monumental stones at Barre,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Did not scare away your frowns:</span><br /> +Had they started with their hammers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down among your city bummers,</span><br /> +It would take you many summers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To repopulate your towns.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yea, at prospects of a battle<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From old Bangor to Seattle</span><br /> +Each Canadian would skedaddle<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To defend his home and kin;</span><br /> +And from Picton to Vancouver<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We would welcome each one over;</span><br /> +Thus united, brother Grover,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would you have a chance to win?</span><br /> +<br /> +Then relinquish Yankee dodges,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We would warn you to be cautious;</span><br /> +Silence rabid Cabot Lodges<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And your jingo journalists.</span><br /> +Friendship's thread already slender<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Needs a sapient defender—</span><br /> +As the lion's tail is tender<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From so many ruthless twists!</span><br /> +<br /> +We have often heard it stated<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When by jingoists berated,</span><br /> +That the people here were fated<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To be "taken in by Sam."</span><br /> +But believe us, brother Grover,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Coming ages will discover</span><br /> +That you cannot get us over<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In that manner by a d——!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span><br /> +There's another way that's better<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than coercion and the fetter,</span><br /> +And we'll tell you in this letter<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How to circumvent the end:</span><br /> +Cultivate a better feeling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For your neighbor in your dealing—</span><br /> +As you'll never see us kneeling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the favors you can lend.</span><br /> +<br /> +Let events their course pursuing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Glide along as they've been doing—</span><br /> +Let our people interwooing—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Intermarry—buy and sell;</span><br /> +Let your friendly salutation,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be extended to this nation,</span><br /> +Let the law of gravitation<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Do the rest and all is well!</span><br /> +<br /> +You have often sold a daughter<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To some dude across the water,</span><br /> +While the title high(?) which bought her<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You so seemingly ignore;</span><br /> +Why not send us a cotillion<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of those girls who own a million</span><br /> +For our hardy northern gillian<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the old Canadian shore?</span><br /> +<br /> +You may think this would not do, but<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We can tell you that your "blue blood"</span><br /> +Isn't "in it" with the true blood<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of our bracing Northern clime—</span><br /> +Better far to take their chances<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Xavier at Lac St. Francis</span><br /> +Than to purchase the advances<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of coin hunters of our time!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE SULTAN AT THE KAISER'S KOURT</h2> + +<div class='center'><b>Enter<br /> +SECOND SONS</b><br /> +————————</div> + +<div class='poem'><br /> +Mohammed Dammed, gift of God!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sultan's second son,</span><br /> +Enjoys a pilgrimage abroad<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With Eitel Fritz the Hun.</span><br /> +<br /> +These second sons, of sons of guns,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are sure some friendly foes;</span><br /> +But to what length their friendship runs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Jehovah only knows.</span><br /> +<br /> +Just now the Sultan, also, dines<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At Williams' kultured kourt,</span><br /> +And downs the Kaiser's doctored wines<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While Kaiser downs his porte.</span><br /> +<br /> +One day young Dammed said to Fritz:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Who started this fool row?</span><br /> +Whoever did was void of wits,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As you must know by now."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span><br /> +Said Eitel, "Though I'm from Missour,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some say it was my Dad;</span><br /> +But as they're going to Bag-dad sure,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'll wish he never had."</span><br /> +<br /> +Said Dammed, "If they bag your Dad<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They'll bag my Daddy sure,</span><br /> +And make him wish he never had<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come here to seek a cure.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Your father promised mine to win<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Cork to Timbuctoo;</span><br /> +If we would throw our Turkey in<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your bloody Pots-dam brew!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Besides, he promised on demand<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Star-eyed Parisian pearls!</span><br /> +Great hunks of Greece, Manhattan and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A thousand chorus girls!</span><br /> +<br /> +"He also swore by every beard<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The prophets ever tore,</span><br /> +That great Mahomet had appeared<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before his chamber door.</span><br /> +<br /> +"And hurled his mantle—so revered—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The blooming transom o'er;</span><br /> +And hence my foolish father feared<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The awful robe he wore!"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span><br /> +Fritz gazed upon the rolling Rhine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With bleary, beery eyes,</span><br /> +And as he sips his foaming stein,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To Dammed thus replies:</span><br /> +<br /> +"Thy father was a howling mutt<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thus to believe my sire;</span><br /> +For 'scraps of paper' never cut<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Much ice with any liar.</span><br /> +<br /> +"That he has promised you too much<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cannot be well denied;</span><br /> +For many things will 'beat the Dutch,'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I find since Hannah died.</span><br /> +<br /> +"My dad and 'first born' started out,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To eat the world in gobs,</span><br /> +But now they're down to spuds and krout,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And what the army robs.</span><br /> +<br /> +"I have no patience with the bunch<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That failed to win from France,</span><br /> +The crown prince plainly lacks the punch—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Why not give me a chance!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"A million soldiers good and true</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Went down to death for him,</span><br /> +And chances still of 'breaking thru,'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are daily growing slim.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span><br /> +"I love him not, nor yet his clique,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who deem themselves so smart:</span><br /> +I'd like to serve them all a kick<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where their Prince Alberts part.</span><br /> +<br /> +"To whip the French, they'll have to sail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thru blood to gay Paree—</span><br /> +Here's hoping Poilus will not fail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make crown prince of me!</span><br /> +<br /> +"For O, I'd love to have a peep<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into that promised land!"</span><br /> +Thus saying Eitel fell asleep—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And snored to beat the band!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And while Eitel was dreaming,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Of something or other,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The son of the Sultan</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wrote home to his mother.</span><br /> +<br /> +"On Linden when the sun was low,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Sultan's second wrote.</span><br /> +These mild impressions of the foe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That has his father's goat:</span><br /> +<br /> +"Dear ma, according to my pledge,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I write these lines to thee,</span><br /> +While sitting on the ragged edge<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In dear old Germany.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span><br /> +"I'm at the court of last resort,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our royal Ali Bill's:</span><br /> +And found my father at the port<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgetting all his ills.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Compared with livers over here<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dad's health is fairly good,</span><br /> +And sure, that boy was full of cheer,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On 'burning deck' that stood.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Great doctor Kaiser, best of men!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To cure dad's mal-a-dy;</span><br /> +Injects his Kultur now and then<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In dad's anatomy.</span><br /> +<br /> +"This Kultur is a German germ<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That germinates a juice,</span><br /> +Which in its turn creates a worm<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That generates the duce!</span><br /> +<br /> +"I'm not well up on wormy laws,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor how this Kultur's spread,</span><br /> +I only know its use will cause<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A swelling of the head!</span><br /> +<br /> +"I think we'll not prolong our stay,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There are no harems here;</span><br /> +The women have no time for play,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The men no time for cheer.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span><br /> +"They's raising crops, but none to sell,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As few would want their goods:</span><br /> +The men are busy raising hell—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The women raising spuds!</span><br /> +<br /> +"The spuds are raising women's sons—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sons all fight for Bill,</span><br /> +And thus it runs that all the Huns<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are simply raising hell!</span><br /> +<br /> +"I heard a 'concert of the Powers'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One stormy night of late,</span><br /> +And there, of course, the joy was ours<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hear the 'Hymn of Hate.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"It seems to be the only song<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That all the boches know,</span><br /> +And slips with ease from every tongue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where 'Uber alles' grow.</span><br /> +<br /> +"They sang the 'Hymn' with awful vim,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And turning round our way,</span><br /> +They looked at me and smiled at 'him,'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As much as if to say,</span><br /> +<br /> +"'There's not a Turk can beat that work,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Twas made in Germany!'—</span><br /> +'That may be so, but by my dirk,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I think the Turk will try!'</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span><br /> +"Yea classed with watchdogs of the Rhine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dastard deeds they've done,</span><br /> +Our dad, I swear, doth really shine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A saintly paragon!</span><br /> +<br /> +"He felt ashamed that any race,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of earth or Hell below,</span><br /> +Could so outshine him to his face—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In hatred of a foe!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class='big'>* * * * *</span><br /> +<br /> +"I pity the Armenian<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When dad gets back to work again;</span><br /> +For he has tortures now in store<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eclipsing all he knew before!"</span><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br /><b>Enter the Clown Prince.</b></div> + +<div class='poem'><br /> +"The next upon the program was<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Kaiser's eldest son,</span><br /> +Who sang to thunders of apeplause<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Der land vare ve ver-dun'!</span><br /> +<br /> +"And as his tears on Brussels flow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His voice pathetic grew,</span><br /> +While singing solemnly and low<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'I see my Waterloo!</span><br /> +<br /> +"'I'm sick and sore and sorry and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm licked and lonely, too:</span><br /> +Vile odders see der Vaterland<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I see mine "Vaterloo"! Boo-hoo!'</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span><br /> +"Dear mother it was sad I claim<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hear him blubber so;</span><br /> +The blooming boob is not to blame<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For what he doesn't know.</span><br /> +<br /> +"From infancy they taught the kid<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To bank on 'right's divine';</span><br /> +And that no matter what he did<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Lord was with his 'Line.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"And so, when shot and shell and trench,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And 'Me und Gott' und Co.</span><br /> +Had failed to crush the hated French,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It queered his status quo!</span><br /> +<br /> +"But Kaiser Bill was on the job,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And said 'it's getting late;'</span><br /> +We'll dry the tear and swab the sob<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sing the 'Hymn of Hate.'</span><br /> +<br /> +And so they sang the 'hymn' again<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To stimulate the prince:</span><br /> +And encored with that sad refrain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">'The days of auld lang since.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"Then Kaiser rising with a spring<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Said, Gentlemen a-hem—</span><br /> +Our friend, the Sultan, now will sing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The 'New Jerusalem'"!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span><br /> +"'And after that, excuse the joke,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He'll sing that song of caste,</span><br /> +The "Turkey in the Straw, that broke<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Camel's back at last."'</span><br /> +<br /> +"The Kaiser's kounsel knocked the spots<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Off father's self command,</span><br /> +For he had such unholy thots,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Anent the Holy Land.</span><br /> +<br /> +"But he was game as old McBeth,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Resolved to do or die;</span><br /> +The odor of his very breath<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was 'comin' thru the rye':</span><br /> +<br /> +"'My breath is hot enough to stew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My blood is hot within</span><br /> +From being chased like Moses thru<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The "Wilderness of Sin."</span><br /> +<br /> +"'They're chasing me across the sand—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Don't mention Waterloo!—</span><br /> +From Dan unto Beersheba and<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A little further, too.</span><br /> +<br /> +"'The sand is hot along the trail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Jersualam'">Jerusalem</ins> how hot—!</span><br /> +And as I hear those bagpipes wail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I murmur, Oh great Scot!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span><br /> +"'Behind each chanter blows a Gael,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Loud, strong and piping hot;</span><br /> +And those en-chanters never fail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make me, Turkey, trot!</span><br /> +<br /> +"And woe betide deluded ones<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who meet this kilted race,</span><br /> +And deem the grim denuded ones<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But females out of place!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Engage them in a bayonet charge<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dupes will quickly find,</span><br /> +Those skirts are worn to camouflage<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The dynamite behind!</span><br /> +<br /> +"O demons of the fighting line,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose limits are the earth;</span><br /> +The empire great in which you shine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Doth bless thy place of birth.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Ubiquitous, pugnacious Scot,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You've nobly done your share;</span><br /> +For, ever where the fighting's hot,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Tartan flutters there!</span><br /> +<br /> +"Yea Turkey Trot and Tanko tune!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Those dances are the style,</span><br /> +We hop to their compelling rune<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Baltic to the Nile.'</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span><br /> +"The Kaiser didn't quite approve<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The course the Sultan chose,</span><br /> +And deemed it time that he should move<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The Turkish mouth to close.</span><br /> +<br /> +"'He's taken too much Scotch in tow<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their praises thus to sing:</span><br /> +The next we know he'll queer the show<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And dance the Highland Fling!'</span><br /> +<br /> +"And as they led the Turk to bed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He said the deal was raw—</span><br /> +Yes raw and red, 'pipe up,' he said<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With 'Turkey in the Straw!'</span><br /> +<br /> +"Here Sheik-Ul-Islam bang arose<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And cried it wasn't fair,</span><br /> +To stem the golden flood that flows<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Allah's chosen heir.</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Mine is the will,' said Kaiser Bill,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'That rules the world today;</span><br /> +No kings or khans or Gods or clans<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can these my words gainsay.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"And then to prove that he was king<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Ruler over all,</span><br /> +He ordered <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Hindenberg'">Hindenburg</ins> to sing!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or rather lead the bawl.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span><br /> +"Then Hindenburg mid many raus<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Essayed a clever line;</span><br /> +The song he sang with fervor was,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Fair Byng-in on the Rhine.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"The song a sad one in its day,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brought some to verge of tears:</span><br /> +But when they heard Von Hinden bray<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The place was near all jeers!</span><br /> +<br /> +"'You're off your line,' the singers laugh,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Von Hindenburg said 'Nay,</span><br /> +I'm only wobbling on the staff,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My bass is weak today.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Your vocal chords are out of joint,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your lines are running wrong,</span><br /> +Therefore I think I will appoint<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Myself to sing a song.'</span><br /> +<br /> +"So saying, Kaiser Bill arose<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And clearing out his throat,</span><br /> +Assumed that well known lordly pose!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And sang without a note.</span><br /> +<br /> +"The music with me still abides,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My ears with discord ring:</span><br /> +Dear mother you would split your sides,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To hear the Kaiser sing.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span><br /> +"O, why the agony prolong?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This was the burden of his song:</span><br /> +<br /> +"'On der shore of Italy<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mine Spag-etta vaits for me,</span><br /> +I am longing so for thee<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mine dear Venus by der sea.</span><br /> +<br /> +"'Und anodder maiden fair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">She vos vaiting 'over there,'</span><br /> +<br /> +"Und I'll take mine supmarine,<br /> +Und mine super-air-machine,<br /> +Und 'Columbia der Chem of der Ocean'<br /> +Vill soon be mine own Kaiserine!'"<br /> +<br /> +Here Eitel woke and poked my ribs,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whispered in my ear,</span><br /> +"The words to suit his royal nibs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Would thusly run, I fear."</span><br /> +<br /> +"Fair Saint Helena is the maid,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That calls thee to her side—</span><br /> +She is lonely, I'm afraid,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since her former war-lord died!"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span><br /> +'Twas at this point a warning dire<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came Hertling thru the hall,</span><br /> +And danced in words of lurid fire<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon the gilded wall.</span><br /> +<br /> +And "Mene, Mene," once again<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A tyrant's eyes behold,</span><br /> +The writing on the wall was plain<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As in the days of old.</span><br /> +<br /> +And gazing on that fiery scroll<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The guilty Kaiser quakes—</span><br /> +May God have mercy on his soul<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When Germany awakes!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<h2>JOHN LABONNE'S DREAM<br /> + +Or<br /> + +A SAD AWAKENING</h2> + +<div class='center'><br /><b>A Song of the Trenches</b></div> + + +<div class='poem'><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All las' night I was me dreamin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Dreamin' where de cannon's roar,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An' my spirit, so it's seemin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wend its flight to home once more.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dare I heard de church bells ringin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' de robin red breas' singin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Back to me de tam was bringin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">W'en I part wit' Rosemarie.</span><br /> +<br /> +Rosemarie! De bells are ringin', oh how sweet de melodie!<br /> +Rosemarie! De robin's singin', an' it's always callin' me!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">It was springtam an' all nature</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Seem to join de robin's song,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">All de sheep an' cattle feel it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">For de winter was so long.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O, it was one joyful meetin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ev'ry creature give me greetin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">An' ma heart tattoo was beatin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">W'en I t'ink of Rosemarie.</span><br /> +<br /> +Rosemarie, ma heart is beatin', O how sweet dat pain can be!<br /> +Rosemarie, it kips repeatin', an' each beat is true to thee.<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Springtam creep along de meadow,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Springtam whisper on de hill;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">W'ere de sunshine chase de shadow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Ro'nd ma home at St. Camille.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dare it stood, ma well known dwellin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Dat I love beyond de tellin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And ma heart in me was swellin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">W'en I see ma Rosemarie.</span><br /> +<br /> +Rosemarie, my heart is swellin', and it's all for love of thee!<br /> +Rosemarie, it kips on tellin' dat you're all de worl' to me!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Joyfully she come to meet me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wit' de love light in her eye;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Smilin' tru' de tears she greet me—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Nevaire more to say good bye.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">W'en I see dem tear drop fallin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Jus' lak dew of early mornin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hangel voices seem lak callin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Callin' Joe to Rosemarie!</span><br /> +<br /> +Rosemarie, de angels' callin', O how sweet dat soun' to me!<br /> +Rosemarie, you' tear drops fallin' coax ma heart across de sea!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Paradise den open to me,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">As she whisper, "Welcome home."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To my arms her form I drew me—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Den, Sapre! I wake, an' boom!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Roar of gun for church-bell ringin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Howl of Hun for robins' singin'—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Loving arms no more are clingin':</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">War is hell, sweet Rosemarie!</span><br /> +</div> + +<div class='center'><br />Chorus<br /><br /></div> +<div class='poem'> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Rosemarie, de bells are ringin',</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">O, how sweet dat melodie!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Rosemarie! de robins' singin'</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 5em;">An' it's always callin' me!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE DERELICT<br /> + +<span class='small'>(When Seattle Was Wide Open.)</span><br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +I will write a short sketch<br /> +Of that free hearted wretch<br /> +Whom all fakirs delight to espy.<br /> +He is seen every day<br /> +Just below Yesler Way,<br /> +Either "full" or distressingly "dry".<br /> +<br /> +He alights from the train,<br /> +Or a boat from the main,<br /> +With intentions both honest and clear.<br /> +But the weak-minded wight,<br /> +Led astray before night,<br /> +Is filled full of doped whiskey and beer.<br /> +<br /> +How alluring and bright<br /> +Is each glittering light,<br /> +As he joyfully watches the throng;<br /> +And his spirits are gay<br /> +As a bird's are in May,<br /> +And as gayly conducive to song.<br /> +<br /> +How seductive the speech<br /> +In which sirens beseech<br /> +Him to share the delights of their spree.<br /> +Ev'ry man in the set<br /> +Is "hail fellow well met",<br /> +And each woman delightfully free!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span><br /> +There's a wink from the "traps",<br /> +And a meal with the Japs,<br /> +And a shuffle of cards as they go.<br /> +There's a trip to the play,<br /> +A few "smiles" by the way,<br /> +And a box by themselves at the show.<br /> +<br /> +O how slyly they wink<br /> +As they sip at their drink,<br /> +And maliciously help him to his;<br /> +And he drinks it, alas!<br /> +'Though the foam on the glass<br /> +Floats around with a death-dealing fizz.<br /> +<br /> +Thus the night passes by<br /> +Till the victimized "guy"<br /> +Is sufficiently "doped" to "go through";<br /> +And the stupefied lout,<br /> +When he's finally out,<br /> +Will possess but a nickel or two.<br /> +<br /> +Wholly drunk, and half blind,<br /> +With confusion of mind,<br /> +And to rum-selling vultures a prey,<br /> +He is found at the "Mug"—<br /> +Takes a ride to the jug,<br /> +And there slumbers his potions away.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span><br /> +Coming out the next morn,<br /> +Sober, sick and forlorn,<br /> +To a world that has quickly grown cold!<br /> +A poor outcast he roams<br /> +While in sumptuous homes<br /> +Whilom friends(?) are enjoying his gold.<br /> +<br /> +Where is now the glib friend<br /> +Of his bounty to lend<br /> +The poor devil the price of a plate?<br /> +He has vanished like mist<br /> +Of the morning, sun-kissed—<br /> +And the victim is left to his fate.<br /> +<br /> +Not a wink from a lass,<br /> +Nor a clink from a glass,<br /> +With "your health", as it's borne to the lips;<br /> +Not a sign from a trap,<br /> +Not a bite from a Jap—<br /> +All his sunshine has suffered eclipse!<br /> +<br /> +Not a kindly "invite"<br /> +From the friends of the night,<br /> +To "step in and have something on me."<br /> +Not a drop from the fakes<br /> +Just to steady the shakes,<br /> +And to "knock" the effects of the spree.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span><br /> +As he wanders the street<br /> +Not one friend does he meet,<br /> +Not a soul that will greet him today;<br /> +"Broke" and hungry—alone,<br /> +With a heartrending moan,<br /> +He must totter along to the bay.<br /> +<br /> +O, the groans which now surge<br /> +With the tones of a dirge<br /> +From that soul so late given to song,<br /> +And how scenes long since fled<br /> +Like a wail from the dead,<br /> +Rise to hasten his footsteps along.<br /> +<br /> +Yea, dim memories rush<br /> +To his mind, and a flush<br /> +Of deep shame drives all pallor away,<br /> +As he thinks of the East<br /> +And the home he has lost<br /> +By the life that leads on to the bay.<br /> +<br /> +"Robbed and wronged all around,"<br /> +Is the sob of the sound,<br /> +But no mortal comes forward to save;<br /> +So with mutterings of wrath<br /> +He goes down to his death<br /> +Through the green, clammy depths of the waves.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span><br /> +Hark the tones of despair<br /> +Which arise on the air<br /> +From the shades of the low moaning bay;<br /> +They will float through the years<br /> +And encircle the spheres,<br /> +And be heard at the great Judgment Day.<br /> +<br /> +Soon a poor, bloated form,<br /> +Tossed about by the storm,<br /> +Floating 'round on the crest of each wave,<br /> +With seaweed for a shroud,<br /> +Is beheld by the crowd,<br /> +And a failure is borne to his grave.<br /> +<br /> +'Tis a jump from the train<br /> +And a trip up on <a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a>Main,<br /> +And a sip with a friend (?) on the way.<br /> +Just a step to the "Mug",<br /> +And a ride to the "jug"—<br /> +Then a leap to his death in the bay.<br /> +<br /> +But the Lord from his seat<br /> +Looketh down on each street,<br /> +Where such hell-born inventions are on,<br /> +And with infinite wrath<br /> +He will sweep on their path—<br /> +And they'll reap on that day what they've sown.<br /> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Main Street, Seattle.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<h2>GAGNE'S CAVALRY<br /> + +or<br /> + +THE CANADIAN HABITANTS' ANSWER<br /> + +to<br /> + +THE FAMOUS "CLEVELAND MESSAGE."<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +My Rosie read to me somet'ing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In pepper week ago.</span><br /> +She say, "De States he want to fight<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On Canada and Joe;</span><br /> +An' dat de Yankee Presidon,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He write to Johnnie Bull,</span><br /> +An' tole him kip his nose at home,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or it would get one pull."</span><br /> +<br /> +An' two three Yankee Senator,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He mak' one Yankee speech,</span><br /> +An' t'ink dat all de Canaya<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will tremble in his breech—</span><br /> +He say to Honcle Sam, "Go up,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' lick de hole dem crew—</span><br /> +Go, tak' Quebec an' Hottawa,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' Lac Megantic too."</span><br /> +<br /> +I jomp on top ma moccasin,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' dance aroun' de floor;</span><br /> +I grine ma teet', I pull ma hair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' den I jomp some more;</span><br /> +I say, "hurrah for Canada!"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So loud as I can't yell,</span><br /> +Till Rosie say, "Ba gosh, hole man!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're crazy I can tell."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span><br /> +"Oh I'm not crazy, Rosie,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am only patriot—</span><br /> +Dat mean a man who never want<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His country go to pot—</span><br /> +Yes, I'm 'hole man,' but don't you fret,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'm not yet invalid,</span><br /> +I'm good for fight on any war<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As ten men when she's dead.</span><br /> +<br /> +"I can't fight? Me? Ba gosh you hask<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma honcle Polyeaux;</span><br /> +He used to fight lak' tiger<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On de war of Papineau;</span><br /> +You know I'm just the sam' lak' him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I'll do what he can done;</span><br /> +An' I can fight lak' tiger, too,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dat Yankee son-of-gun."</span><br /> +<br /> +Ma Rosie say: "You crack hole man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Such tom fool speech to mak',</span><br /> +I t'ink you are most crazy man<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dat live on top de lac—</span><br /> +Your boy is in de State, you know,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' work in Yankee mill,</span><br /> +An' w'at you do he lose his job,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His bread an' greenback bill?"</span><br /> +<br /> +"Baa, you mak' mistak', dear Rosie,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you t'ink we starve to dead;</span><br /> +If we can't get de Yankee work,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His brown bean an' his bread,</span><br /> +Grease pie, hot doughnut—biscuit,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is good t'ing for mak' a dude;</span><br /> +But we got somet'ing better here<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Den Yankee 'speptic food."</span><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'><br />Chorus<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +Ma peasoup am bully, boys,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' buckwheat is good,</span><br /> +You nevair get one better t'ing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To work upon de hood;</span><br /> +W'en it get hold de handle axe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">It mak' de chip to fly</span><br /> +T'ick as snowflak' in de winter,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or mosquito on July.</span><br /> +<br /> +Paul will come from Manchester,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' Xavier from Lowhell;</span><br /> +Joe will come from River Fall,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Immediate—pell mell;</span><br /> +An' every mill of Honcle Sam<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will have to close de loom,</span><br /> +W'en all our boys aroun' de State<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will come to fight at home.</span><br /> +<br /> +O by de jomp up hooricane!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If Yankee don't stop brag;</span><br /> +She'll fin' more star on top his head,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Den he got top his flag;</span><br /> +She'll fin' one tiger on his track,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wit' blood-shot on his eye,</span><br /> +And ev'ry Yank dat cross de line<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For fight, is sure to die.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/fig_002.png" width="600" height="461" alt="Gagne's Cavalry." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Gagne's Cavalry.</span> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +De Lac Megantic m'litia man<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is sure to tak de lead,</span><br /> +You bet your life w'en he get rouse<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Someboda got to bleed!</span><br /> +An' w'en from Lac St. Francis<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come de Greenland Grenadier</span><br /> +He'll mak' all Yankee man he meet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Go home de top his bier.</span><br /> +<br /> +De Horseman from La Patrie too,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will come an join de fray,</span><br /> +An' blow his tin horn bugle,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On de top Canada gray;</span><br /> +De Voltigeurs from Weedon,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' de Lampton Light Brigade,</span><br /> +Will come an' show to Jameson<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">De way to mak a raid.</span><br /> +<br /> +O' we can fight dat Yankee man<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As fadders fought before!</span><br /> +On battle of Chateaugay,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">W'en five Frenchman kill a score!</span><br /> +De Hinglish, Scotch, an' Hirish, too,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will join us, don't you fear—</span><br /> +Dere's notting top dis earth can lick<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Canadian Volunteer!</span><br /> +<br /> +An' for one more good leader man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We'll send for Louis Cyr,</span><br /> +An' he'll tak' charge de Chesham Corps<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An' Ditton Fusileer;</span><br /> +De Hinfantry from Emberton<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will join de Yankee hunt,</span><br /> +And Peter Gagne's Cavalry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will gallop on de front!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE GRIPPE</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +To see us now, deceivers<br /> +Would say this land of beavers<br /> +Was full of fitful fevers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And other chills.</span><br /> +On all the passing breezes<br /> +There's nothing heard but wheezes,<br /> +With hacking coughs and sneezes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And other ills.</span><br /> +<br /> +The bear, that northern prowler,<br /> +The 'Oonalaska howler,<br /> +And every other growler<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">We read about,</span><br /> +With us have caught the churning<br /> +Whose cause is past discerning,<br /> +The demon that is turning<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Us inside out.</span><br /> +<br /> +The monster's exultation<br /> +Is heard throughout the nation,<br /> +He stops at every station<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To spread himself;</span><br /> +And no one can avoid him,<br /> +'Tis useless to deride him,<br /> +Impossible to hide him<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Upon a shelf.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span><br /> +Whence come those sudden changes,<br /> +With all their train of twinges,<br /> +Grim foes of health that hinges<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">On atmosphere?</span><br /> +There surely is a reason<br /> +For this fantastic season,<br /> +That sets the world a sneezin'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">About us here.</span><br /> +<br /> +This "rushing" influenza,<br /> +Just taken for a mensa,<br /> +Most certainly will cleanse a'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Your system, man.</span><br /> +It has the knack to stick, too—<br /> +'Twould surely turn "Old Nick" blue<br /> +And draw his toenails quick through<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">His diaphragm.</span><br /> +<br /> +No power can avail, man,<br /> +To drive him from the trail, man;<br /> +The patent drugs for sale man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Can never cure.</span><br /> +He comes against your will, man,<br /> +And sneaks around to kill, man;<br /> +The rippling of his rill, man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Is never pure.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span><br /> +It droppeth like the rain, man,<br /> +Extracted by the pain, man,<br /> +And driveth one insane, man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To think of it.</span><br /> +It robs us of our food, man,<br /> +And freezes up our blood, man—<br /> +And sleep! Nary a nod, man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Or wink of it.</span><br /> +<br /> +The old world it's been tearing—<br /> +Now we must have a hearing;<br /> +It crossed the strait of Behring—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Yes, bound to win.</span><br /> +Ah! now it overtakes me,<br /> +The shivering that shakes me<br /> +Is one that surely makes the<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Whole world akin.</span><br /> +<br /> +Across from coast to coast, sir,<br /> +You wander like a ghost, sir;<br /> +Every one can boast(?), sir,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Of having you.</span><br /> +You strike at high and lowly,<br /> +The wicked and the holy,<br /> +The poor, and they who roll thee,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Fifth avenue!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span><br /> +No doubt our friend bold "Fairman",<br /> +And also John his chairman,<br /> +Are pulling out their hair (?), man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And looking wild.</span><br /> +If influenza has them,<br /> +My writing will not please them;<br /> +So, Oscar, pray don't tease them<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Or get them riled.</span><br /> +<br /> +Gu'tchew! gu'tchew! gu'tchew! man;<br /> +"Good day, mar ha u diugh, man;<br /> +'Sda chuin <a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a>neanaib na shruth, man,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Le-uiske beatha."</span><br /> +That's what I hear around me<br /> +Wherever Celtic sound be,<br /> +And also, O confound thee,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">America!</span><br /> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> Water spring.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> + +<h2>TRUDEL'S TRAVELS</h2> + + +<div class='center'><br />Joe<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +Said Joe, "I mus' go w'ere de win' she don' blow<br /> +For six mont' in de year, wit' its mout' full of snow:<br /> +W'ere t'ermom' at de door don' sink down to de floor,<br /> +Yes, to 40 degree below razo, or so.<br /> +<br /> +"W'ere de breeze mak' you sneeze, an' de pump-handle freeze,<br /> +An' de snow she is go up above to you' knees,<br /> +Is no place for me Joe, so I'm t'ink I will go<br /> +Lak de Hun to de sun, wit' ma wife an' Louise.<br /> +<br /> +"I got pos' car' today from Eugene, an' he say<br /> +To sell out on de farm, an' go down rat away<br /> +To Lowhell on de mill w'ere I earn de green bill,<br /> +An' de Merri-mac sing, tra la ling, all de day."<br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Marie<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +But Marie said, "Oui, I am not jus' agree<br /> +Wit' de plan dat you han' for dat gran' beeg movie;<br /> +If you start for de State jus' be sure not be late:<br /> +I will stay rat at home till you come, don' you see?<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span><br /> +"So skedad," she is yell, "an' go down to Lowhell,<br /> +W'ere de snow she don' blow and no ice clog de well!<br /> +I will freeze if I please, or go sout' wit' de geese,<br /> +An' live 'long wit' ma niece in 'at ol' Lennoxvell."<br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Joe<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Yes, ma dear, I can hear, if you don' spik so clear,<br /> +An' break in lak a bomb on de drom of ma ear;<br /> +You may fly wit' you' niece an' go live wit' de geese,<br /> +If you promise to write in you' flight once a year.<br /> +<br /> +"She is give me one glance an' at once I can see<br /> +It's more safer in France den at Lampton for me;<br /> +In her face it is war an' I notice, by gar,<br /> +It's more cold in her eye den de 60 degree!<br /> +<br /> +"An' Marie, is she froit? Not to notice it yet!<br /> +For she scream till she steam an' she steam till she's wet;<br /> +An' I notice once more as she stamp on de floor:<br /> +She is build on de line of de fin' suffragette!<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>"Ah! So cold lak de pump, or de frost on de stump,<br /> +An' her beautiful back is rise up in de hump;<br /> +Quick I mak' up my min' w'en I look on dat sign,<br /> +It is jus' 'bout de tam for me Joe mak' a jomp!<br /> +<br /> +"In de quarr'l of a fam' don' it sure beat de ban'<br /> +How de neighbors butt in, jus' lak one of de clan—<br /> +If ol' Liz' an' her phiz would kip out of my biz',<br /> +It is sure not be half de divorce in de lan'.<br /> +<br /> +"Did I jomp? Well, I'm not geeve it secrets away<br /> +Dat's between man an' wife an' de pump any day,<br /> +But Marie w'en she's woun', tak's some tam to run down,<br /> +An' before she collapse she me raps in dis way:"<br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Marie<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"I am born for to toil, I am tie to de soil,<br /> +An' you t'ink it's enough if for once in a while<br /> +I can ride to Shalbrooke, wit' cheval dat you took<br /> +From de crows in de spring, jus' to show it my style!<br /> +<br /> +"Lak de queen I am feel wit' no grease on de wheel,<br /> +An' t'ree pigs in a box nottings lef' but de squeal!<br /> +Wit' his snout stick it out through de slat lake a spout—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>An' his body come too but got knot on de tail!<br /> +<br /> +"An' I know I am show lak de scare of de crow,<br /> +W'en down Wellington street to de market we go;<br /> +An' garson in bare feet—all de blaggard I meet<br /> +Mak' me squirm lak de worm from ma head to de toe.<br /> +<br /> +"O ge whizz I am proud w'en we come on de crowd,<br /> +An' damfool out of school, he is laugh it out loud;<br /> +But de glory to God w'en I t'ink of de load<br /> +An' de boneyard dat carry it over de road,<br /> +An' de squeak of de gig, and de squeal of de pig,<br /> +I don' blame it for laugh w'en he look at de rig!<br /> +<br /> +"'Ha! ha!' he is cry, 'hope to die, how you feel?<br /> +Ain't it tam to give pig in dat box some more meal?<br /> +You' horse it's too fat lak de edge of de slat;<br /> +Not 'nuff grease in de pig for to put on de wheel!<br /> +W'at you tak' it in cash for you' automosqueal?'"<br /> +"Dat's de cry dat I hear on de top of ma ear<br /> +W'en Marie, dat is me, an' her chariot appear.<br /> +An' as sure I'm rebel as you' name is Trudel<br /> +If it's not some improvement in movement nex' year."<br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Joe<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"O, I know very well, ma cheval is poor breed,<br /> +But for trav' lak de dev' he is very fine steed;<br /> +It is true he is slim, but jus' look at his limb—<br /> +He is build lak de fly-machine—all for de speed!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span><br /> +"Yes, Marie, I agree dat ma rig is look tough,<br /> +So I'll spik it to Ingram, or else to Ren Clough:<br /> +I will horder cheval of de bes' in his stall,<br /> +An' nex' trip you'll be queen of de May, sure enough."<br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Marie<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"You' sarcast' is not ask it is soun' lak de clown,<br /> +If you see you'se'f once as you look to de town<br /> +You would pull in you' horn jus' as sure you are born,<br /> +For you haven't got sense enough sure to go roun'.<br /> +<br /> +"Yes, sir, ma dear Joe, you don't seem, for to know,<br /> +On las' trip to de town you was mos' of de show:<br /> +Wit' t'ree quart whiskey blanc dat you pour down you' craw—<br /> +O you bet you forget all 'bout 60 below!<br /> +<br /> +"In Shalbrook on each trip you complain of de grippe,<br /> +Dr. Bum is soon come wit' a "nip" on de hip:<br /> +You get sick very quick jus' before de physic,<br /> +But de cure is work sure after tak' de firs' nip.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span><br /> +"Las' tam you was in you begin de ol' trick,<br /> +An' you' frien' soon atten' to tak' charge of de sick;<br /> +Soon you smug' a beeg jug to de stall of you' plug—<br /> +But Marie' dat is me, an' cheval mak' a kick.<br /> +<br /> +"O dat 2-gallon stein of de jolly highwine,<br /> +In de provender mix, mak' a bully combine!<br /> +If it's good for a fool sure it's good for de mule,<br /> +An' dat is as true as twice four it is nine.<br /> +<br /> +"I am t'ink if you drink till you' loaded for wreck,<br /> +I will geeve de ol' nag de sam' jag on de deck;<br /> +So I pour a few peck of de stuff down his neck<br /> +An' start in to smash record for trot in Kebec.<br /> +<br /> +"Yes, I mix it de stuff, jus' de full of beeg pail—<br /> +Will he eat it or drink it? It's puzzle to tell:<br /> +But he gobble an' gobbed an' he slobber and slobbed<br /> +Until nottings was lef' of de stuff but de smell!<br /> +<br /> +"Bam by it was sly in de eye dat was dull,<br /> +An' he sneeze an' he wheeze an' de halter he pull;<br /> +Pretty soon he is grow to ac' jus' lak ma Joe—<br /> +Yes a man an' cheval is de sam' w'en its full!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span><br /> +"Come hop on de wagon, it's ready for flight;<br /> +Load is leaving for Lampton, ol' Joseph sit tight.<br /> +Whoa, Boneyparte, whoa! An' Calamity Joe!<br /> +Kip still till you bid (hic) ol' Shalbrooke good night.<br /> +<br /> +"An' de soun' of his feet as he dance on de street,<br /> +Seem to me lak de play of de drum w'en she's beat;<br /> +An' he rattle his bones on de pavement of stones<br /> +Till it mak' me feel sure I am winning de heat!<br /> +<br /> +"Wen we pass it pell mell thru' on ol' Lennoxvell,<br /> +Peop' is t'ink dat de college is practice hees yell;<br /> +I am know it's disgrace on such educate place—<br /> +But it mak' leetle differ to Joseph Trudel.<br /> +<br /> +"For, more loud as before he is roar on de spot,<br /> +Boneyparte is respon' an fly on lak de shot—<br /> +Frank Bogash is stan' still on de top of Sand Hill,<br /> +An' say, 'glory to God, he can beat me for trot!'<br /> +<br /> +"An' his tail in de win' is fly up wit'out bend,<br /> +Jus' as straight lak de pole dat de trolley car send.<br /> +Yes, it stick up behin' lak de mos' of its kin',<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>An' I'm t'ink dat de spark is fly out at de end!<br /> +<br /> +"He is wheeze on de breeze till I'm 'fraid he will bus',<br /> +An' ma Joe, de ol' fou, is yell 'Go it, you cuss!'<br /> +Jus' as soon as he yell Boney do as he tell,<br /> +An' de city of Cookshire we leave in de dus'.<br /> +<br /> +"It's rat here I got scare, an' declare to him 'Hi!<br /> +<ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'an't'">Can't</ins> you steady you nerves an' come down from de sky?'<br /> +But I fin' it's no use, for de dev' is seem loose,<br /> +An' de more as I coax it de louder he cry!<br /> +<br /> +"On de top of de slope w'ere dey bury de Pope<br /> +I say, 'Joe, you go slow through dis precinct I hope.'<br /> +But he yell for protection—'Hoorah for 'lection,<br /> +Free trade will be hang if it get some more rope!'<br /> +<br /> +"An' I know rat away dat de dev' is to pay,<br /> +W'en he cry to de sky in dat blood curdle way<br /> +For John Henry arose, to meet frien' or de foes—<br /> +An' said, 'Ladies an' gentlemen, where's Laurier?'<br /> +<br /> +"O, de stones on de graves is look white lak de sheep,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>An' de fear of ma scare mak' de hair on me creep<br /> +W'en he lif' up his head, look aro'nd him an' said,<br /> +'There ain't nothin' to it,' an' went back for more sleep!<br /> +<br /> +"Bam by I am get over de mos' of ma fright;<br /> +I don' look to de lef, I don' look to de right.<br /> +But kip rat straight ahead for more place of de dead—<br /> +For ma pals stop for nottings but spirits tonight.<br /> +<br /> +"An' de rat de tat tat of his iron shoe hoof<br /> +Soun' lak hail in de gale dat is fall on de roof;<br /> +An' de stone dat is pass, an' de dus' in ma face,<br /> +Of de speed Boney mak' is one jolly good proof.<br /> +<br /> +"An' at Bury, I guess, Joe is want me to res'<br /> +An' put down at de tavern of Peter Gilless;<br /> +But I tole to him plain he was on de wrong train—<br /> +No way station stop for de lightning hexpress!<br /> +<br /> +"Whoa! Boneyparte, whoa! W'at's de matter wit' you?<br /> +Can't you jus for one minute go little bit slow?<br /> +But he don't seem to min' any more as de win',<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>An' pass out through de swamp w'ere de dam-beaver grow.<br /> +<br /> +"Wen de Meadows we reach, lak de dev' he was hump,<br /> +An' ol' Chimney de Hill he was climb in t'ree jump;<br /> +All de Scotch on de road say 'de glory to God,<br /> +It mus' sure be de ghost of ol' 'Caillach de fump!'<br /> +<br /> +"At each place of de dead, I say 'Joe, prinnes garde,<br /> +You kip still on dis hill, an' don' yellen so hard.'<br /> +But ma Joseph of course, jus' as crack as de horse<br /> +Kip on yell to beat tell w'en he see de graveyard!<br /> +<br /> +"At one place as we pass, I t'ink down de Black Eye,<br /> +Sleep some dear pioneer—80 year since dey die:<br /> +Here ol' Joe yell so loud for de clans in de shroud<br /> +Some is jomp up to see w'at de dev' is pass by!<br /> +<br /> +"An' jus' leettle way down, Boney stop in his track,<br /> +An' he spy, an' he shy, an' he try to turn back;<br /> +But Joe hit him a clip on de hip wit' de whip,<br /> +An' somebodda in Scotch is yell 'Frangach a cack.'<br /> +<br /> +"But Boney don' need it de crack of de switch,<br /> +As he jomp through de stomp on de top of de ditch,<br /> +Yellin' 'Caillach a rad cross! I am los', I am los'!'<br /> +An' was chase in de race by de wil' Lingwick witch!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span><br /> +"O de glory to Gordon! her look mak' me chill,<br /> +As we shoot over reevers lak wisp-o'-de-will;<br /> +An' den down to de mill, an' up over de hill,<br /> +W'ere de capitol Gould ro'nd de scales is stan' still.<br /> +<br /> +"But not so de chariot dat's passin', you bet:<br /> +Too much hurry to talk to de peop' dat we met—<br /> +It's no stop-over right on Joe's ticket tonight—<br /> +He is head on for Lampton an' don' you forget!<br /> +<br /> +"Yes, ol' caillach de crossing is scare Joseph blind,<br /> +An' I'm t'ink for a while it will help it—his mind—<br /> +O you bet he was 'fraid of dat sweet highland maid<br /> +Who was squeal lak de deil on our heel jus' behind!<br /> +<br /> +"We was gallop through Galson, till Tolsta approach,<br /> +Near de line dat's dividing de French from de Scotch;<br /> +Here ol' hag of de fright, scream to Joseph 'Good night!<br /> +On de witches of Winslow I mus' not encroach!'<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span><br /> +"W'en Joe lose it de vision he's courage come back<br /> +An' he ask w'at she mean by de 'Frangach is crack';<br /> +W'en I tole him he cry 'Dam Scotch haggis good bye!<br /> +De nex' tam dat I trav' I will kip from you track!'<br /> +<br /> +"'Who is said I was 'fraid of de sick or de well?<br /> +I am not a bit scare of twin devils from Dell;<br /> +Not one man of my day, but de beeg George MacRae<br /> +Can lick one of de sides of me, Joseph <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Trudell'">Trudel</ins>!'<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='poem'> +"Dat's de way dat you rave, an' behave, an' you boast<br /> +On de night dat cheval an' his pal see de ghost:<br /> +An' de tremens was goad you so much on de road<br /> +I am wonder de load ever get to dis post.<br /> +<br /> +"O, it's joy, for a wife, in dis worl' of de strife,<br /> +To be shame of de game till it stab lak de knife;<br /> +An' de peop' are all tell 'Dat's de mate of Trudel,<br /> +Who is travel lak hell on de jo'rney of life.<br /> +<br /> +"Dat's why you are cry, an' you' heart feel it sore,<br /> +An' you ask me to roam from ma home evermore.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>Jus' you geeve up one t'ing, an' de birds it will sing,<br /> +An' de sonshine will cling w'ere it's shadow before!<br /> +<br /> +"O dat man is de bes' who will cling to his nes'<br /> +W'ere he's born an' he's raise an' he's work an' he's res';<br /> +If he don' mak' success rat at home, I confess,<br /> +Den it's slim hope for him in de Sout' or de Wes'.<br /> +<br /> +"An' dear Joe, don' you know we have got no hexcuse<br /> +For de way we offen', an' descen' to abuse?<br /> +Me you cannot deceive, for I know you are grieve<br /> +Jus' as much as Marie for de dear ones we lose.<br /> +<br /> +"An' de pain is mos' kill, an' it's nevair kip still,<br /> +Since dey bury ma Mary an' boy on de hill;<br /> +W'en you ask it I fin' dat I can't leave behin'<br /> +Lonely grave of ma darlings, Marie and boy Bill.<br /> +<br /> +"An' I'm feel it is true, half of me's bury too,<br /> +Since was lay in de clay leettle body from view!<br /> +So you do w'at you lak, I will try for to mak'<br /> +Jus' de bes' of de bargain, I promise to you.<br /> +<br /> +"But I tole to you, Joe, if you t'ink I mus' go,<br /> +It is only half womans be wit' you I know;<br /> +For de res' of me stay w'ere de leettle ones lay—<br /> +In de summer an' flower, in winter an' snow!"<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE END OF THE TRAIL</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +I was summoned in the gloaming to the bedside of a friend<br /> +Who was passing through the shadows ever lurking at the end:<br /> +To the bedside of a comrade I had known long, long ago<br /> +Back in dear old Compton County, where the sugar maples grow.<br /> +Just a simple son of Lewis, careless, fearless, poor and proud,<br /> +As becomes a Highland Scotsman of the royal clan MacLeod.<br /> +He could sing the songs of loveland, as I've seldom heard them sung—<br /> +Richest treasures of the Highlands flowed in music from his tongue.<br /> +What a privilege and pleasure to have heard him in his prime,<br /> +Ere his mellow notes were burdened by the cruel strains of time.<br /> +When the gentle nurse had brought me to the couch of poor old John<br /> +E'en a novice would not question that his race was nearly run.<br /> +He was lonely in the city, longing for the spruce and pine,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span>And his eyes grew bright with pleasure as he placed his hand in mine,<br /> +Saying: "Don't forget me, Angus, but come out to see me here,<br /> +For the nights are long and lonely, and the days devoid of cheer.<br /> +Yes, I know my days are numbered, all the signs to me are plain:<br /> +I shall never guide the movements of the skid road boys again.<br /> +There's a secret I would tell you that I've never told before,<br /> +It was locked up in my bosom fifty years ago or more:<br /> +It's of Mary, gentle Mary, whom I loved in years agone—<br /> +Loved her then and will forever, and my Mary loved her John!<br /> +But there came another wooer, who was rich as I was poor,<br /> +And her parents looked with favor on this keeper of a store.<br /> +I was wounded, yes, and angry, that their greed should thus deny<br /> +Me the place they held for riches, so I bade them all good bye,<br /> +And I left my Mary weeping, though she begged of me to stay—<br /> +Left her weeping—to my sorrow—and I westward took my way.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>Then I drifted hither, thither, like the flotsam of the sea:<br /> +Every year a little farther from my home in Tallabharee,<br /> +Till at last I came to anchor on the shores of Puget Sound,<br /> +Where so many of my comrades in misfortune may be found."<br /> +Here his speech grew slow and halting, as he said, amid his groans,<br /> +He had feared for what might happen to his "poor old aching bones."<br /> +"Do not let them sink my body where the derelicts are thrown,<br /> +For although I'm poor in pocket, pride was bred within my bone.<br /> +When my limbs refuse their burden and I cannot further go,<br /> +And the trail is dark and tangled where the fir and cedars grow;<br /> +When the cord of life is severed and in death I'm lying low,<br /> +And there's nothing left but tallabh of the John you used to know:<br /> +Lay me down amid the shadows of the forest that I love,<br /> +With the grey green moss around me and the skies of God above;<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>Where no noises will disturb me save the whisper of the woods<br /> +And the night-birds' dismal hooting in the primal solitudes,<br /> +Where the crooning voice of nature chants the glory of the West,<br /> +Let the groves of God hold vigil o'er my everlasting rest.<br /> +Over there beyond the shadows I will find my Mary dear,<br /> +And we'll cruise the trails together that we missed so sadly here."<br /> +When again I looked upon him death had wrapped him in its chill,<br /> +Songs were silenced now forever and the lilting lips were still.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<h2>HOMESICK.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +I am tire now of roam', Rosemarie,<br /> +An' long to be at home 'mong de tree,<br /> +W'ere de Robin redbreas' sing<br /> +In de branches every spring,<br /> +An' de bes' of everyt'ing, You wit' me!<br /> +<br /> +For de independen' man, Rosemarie,<br /> +Farmin' is de bettair plan, seem to me;<br /> +W'ere no boss is stan' an' swear<br /> +Till you feel lak pull you' hair—<br /> +O! ba gosh I want ma fare rat away!<br /> +<br /> +Yes, if man has got one soul, Rosemarie,<br /> +Don' it mak' him hot lak ol' Mont Pelee!<br /> +To be order' ro'nd his work<br /> +Lak some lezzy dog-gone Turk—<br /> +By a boss call Barney Burke, O sacre!<br /> +<br /> +O, I long to see my farm, Rosemarie;<br /> +W'ere ol' Nature full of charm wait for me—<br /> +W'ere de angel painter deck<br /> +Ev'ry sod an' stone an' stick:<br /> +Ro'nd ma home in ol' Kebec, Rosemarie!<br /> +<br /> +Yes, I dream abo't it all, Rosemarie,<br /> +Ev'ry tam to sleep I fall, night or day:<br /> +I can see dat bock-wheat fiel'<br /> +Dat is soon be turn to meal,<br /> +An' I hear de fat pig squeal, "hot gravie"!<br /> +<br /> +O, ma heart is on de jomp, Rosemarie,<br /> +For be back among de stomp, You an' me:<br /> +Ma potato in de lot,<br /> +An' ma onion growin' hot,<br /> +An' de sweet pea in de pot, hully gee!<br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 332px;"> +<img src="images/fig_003.png" width="332" height="600" alt="Sergeant-Major Larry." title="" /> +<span class="caption">Sergeant-Major Larry.</span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<h2>SERGEANT MAJOR LARRY<br /> +OF THE GALLANT 58TH</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>In '96 the author served his Queen for two weeks on +the plains of Rockland, near Richmond, Que., as orderly +under the gallant Capt. Peter Gillies, now of Bury, P. Q. +One of the subordinate officers becoming the butt of his +comrades owing to unpopular tactics the following "Come-allye" +resulted. The author may add that this "drill" ended +his military career—he hasn't been orderly since.</p></div> + +<div class='center'><br /> +——————</div> +<div class='poem'><br /> +O come all ye loyal volunteers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're ordered for review:</span><br /> +Keep your eyes on Sergeant Larry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the famous "No. 2".</span><br /> +He's the model of a soldier,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And 'tis worth your while to watch</span><br /> +How he handles the maneuvers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In his drill among the Scotch.</span><br /> +<br /> +Sure his "honors" sought him early,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was here but half a week,</span><br /> +When the call came: "Forward, Larry,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You're promoted for your cheek:</span><br /> +Take your stripes and stand for orders<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And reveal to No. 2</span><br /> +What a mixture of conceit and gall,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With brass and cheek, can do."</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span><br /> +And the "orders" are "Fall in, my men,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Look sharp, and don't be late!</span><br /> +Signed, Sergeant Major Larry,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the gallant 58."</span><br /> +Come, my boys, you need not grumble,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You have but to grin and yield,</span><br /> +For brave Kitchener's "not in it"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When bold Larry's on the field.</span><br /> +<br /> +When we started down from Scotstown<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We were just as big as him,</span><br /> +But his honors won so quickly<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made the rest of us look slim.</span><br /> +O, he swelled in regimentals<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till he quite outgrew his tent,</span><br /> +But he'll get the one he asked for<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When old Hogan pays his rent.</span><br /> +<br /> +O we are loyal volunteers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our red coats prove us so,</span><br /> +We are ready, aye, and willing now<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To meet our country's foe.</span><br /> +Who would not be proud of Canada<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for her sake to bleed?</span><br /> +For success would crown our efforts<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If bold Larry took the lead.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span><br /> +Yes, the sword that dangles by his side's<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A borrowed one, I know</span><br /> +But it matters not to Larry,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As it helps to make a show!</span><br /> +See him strut around the camp ground,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a peacock in the grass!</span><br /> +And the "staff" will send him higher<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When it needs a boom in brass.</span><br /> +<br /> +Such was Larry bold—in peace time—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He was brave as Lochinvar,</span><br /> +But he quickly changed his music<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the bugle called for war;</span><br /> +When the Highlanders grew wrathy,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With their hair straight up on end,</span><br /> +Sergeant Larry dropped at Bury,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he wished to see a friend!</span><br /> +<br /> +We were left without a leader<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the riot louder swelled,</span><br /> +Divers Scotsmen drew their bayonets<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And for blood they madly yelled.</span><br /> +Ev'ry car was full of soldiers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Noisy as salvation drum,</span><br /> +On the day we left Camp Rockland<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the troops came shouting home.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><br /> +After Larry comes the "Colonel,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And a valiant man is he,</span><br /> +Tho' he never led his forces<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From "Atlanta to the sea";</span><br /> +Yet, if e'er the country needs him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Every clansman will awake,</span><br /> +From old Hampton down to Weedon<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And from Lingwick to the Lake.</span><br /> +<br /> +We will conquer with our music<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If our fighting fails to win,</span><br /> +Whom bold Larry cannot vanquish<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We will silence with our din;</span><br /> +Thus we'll proudly march to glory<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And in midst of all the fray</span><br /> +We'll be cheered by French of Scotstown<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As he whistles "Cabar Faidth."</span><br /> +<br /> +And McLennan with his bagpipes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He's a brass band in himself,</span><br /> +We will have him with his music<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To conjure the fighting elf.</span><br /> +There is nothing so inspiring<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As a loyal tune or song,</span><br /> +To arouse a soldier's spirits<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And to cheer the "boys" along.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span><br /> +We will have them there from Scotstown,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Ben gal and Echo Vale,</span><br /> +Men imbued with faith and courage,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Highland traits which never fail;</span><br /> +And to swell the fighting faction<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We've the twins of Murray's Clan,</span><br /> +Who can fight their weight in wildcats—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Not to mention mortal man!</span><br /> +<br /> +And we've armies to fall back on,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose supply will never fail,</span><br /> +Troops which cross the wild Atlantic<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On all ships of steam or sail;</span><br /> +You will find them throughout Canada,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherever you may roam,</span><br /> +And the natives call them "home boys",<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For they never stop at home.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Chorus<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +Beat the drums and blow the bugle, boys,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And whoop it all you're worth,</span><br /> +As a token to the nations<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You are rulers of the earth!</span><br /> +If you wish to shine as soldiers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">You must all be up to date,</span><br /> +And uphold the reputation<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Battalion 58.</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE FENIAN RAID<br /> +WHICH<br /> +NEVER WAS MADE</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>During the Boer War a number of prominent gentlemen +addressing a great mass-meeting in New York advised +the Tammany Tiger to go up and clean out the Canadian +jungles, intimating that the majority of the French Canadians +were ready to cast off the "British Yoke."</p></div> + +<div class='center'>————————</div> + +<div class='poem'> +From de country of de Yankee,<br /> +Where de heagle bird is roost,<br /> +Where de Star and Stripe is worship<br /> +All de way from coast to coast,<br /> +Comes a rumble of de danger<br /> +Dat is t'reaten us once more,<br /> +W'en de Fenian tak' hadvantage<br /> +Of our trobble wit' de Boer.<br /> +<br /> +Some crank mans in New York City<br /> +Mak' beeg speech dat soun' lak' joke,<br /> +And he tell us "what a pity<br /> +Canadaw wear British yoke!"<br /> +And dey shout out to de people<br /> +In de clap-trap of de brave:<br /> +"We will send it men and money<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>For to liberate de slave!"<br /> +<br /> +P'raps dey mean all right for Joseph,<br /> +But I t'ink before dey come,<br /> +Dat someboda ought to tole it,<br /> +"Charata begin at home."<br /> +And dey try to move McKinley<br /> +In de favor of Oom Paul—<br /> +Not because dey love de Boer,<br /> +But because dey hate John Bull.<br /> +<br /> +Now if Joe he know de feeling<br /> +Of <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'd e'">de</ins> U. S. at this tam,<br /> +All de foe of Queen Victoria<br /> +Is de foe of Honcle Sam.<br /> +It is hinsult to ma country<br /> +For dese men to yell and tell<br /> +Dat de Canuck don't is loyal<br /> +To de queen he love so well.<br /> +<br /> +Tak' de history of ma people,<br /> +From de day of Wolfe-Montcalm,<br /> +An' you'll find it patriotic<br /> +To de backbone jus' de sam'.<br /> +I am sorry for dis fighting,<br /> +As I don't dislak de Boer;<br /> +But ba gosh w'en its mean troub', boys,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>Den I lak' ma country more.<br /> +<br /> +Hip hoorah! for British soldier,<br /> +Hip hoorah! for British flag!<br /> +And God bless de Canuck forces<br /> +Gone to help uphold de rag!<br /> +Down wit' all disloyal member<br /> +Of de body politik,<br /> +French or Henglish, rich or poor mans,<br /> +By de power let him trek!<br /> +(I'm not onderstan' dis las' word,<br /> +Don't hinvent it in Quebec.)<br /> +<br /> +Now I read it on de pepper<br /> +Dat J. Tarte is mak' some sneer<br /> +On de patrihotic feeling<br /> +Of de Canuck volunteer;<br /> +So I'll tole ma frien' Sir Wilfrid<br /> +For to check his runnin' mate—<br /> +T'row heem out de sam' lak Jonah,<br /> +Or he'll sink de ship of state!<br /> +<br /> +Long ago w'en I was babby<br /> +Fenian mak' it one beeg "raid"<br /> +For to capture Canuck country—<br /> +Hole an' young an' man an' maid.<br /> +Up dey come from state of Var-mont,<br /> +Halso from de state of Maine,<br /> +To de state of destitution<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>Pretty near to Stanstead Plain!<br /> +<br /> +Dere dey met two t'ree hole farmer,<br /> +Wit' some sickle in her han',<br /> +An' she hask hinvading army<br /> +W'at dey want on top her lan'.<br /> +Dey could mak' no hones' hanswer,<br /> +So de farmer tole 'em "leave,"<br /> +An' before you say Jack Robin!<br /> +Dey skedaddle lak de dev'!<br /> +<br /> +Yes dis rag-tag bob-tail soldier<br /> +Start across de "line" on run,<br /> +Jus' de sam' lak' Coxey army,<br /> +W'en it march from Washington!<br /> +Nodder tam two t'ree more Fenian<br /> +Come aroun' ma home to tak'<br /> +W'en ma fadder an' ma grandpa<br /> +Was off fish upon de lak'.<br /> +<br /> +Noboda aroun' but womans<br /> +W'en de Fenian come dat day,<br /> +An' ma gran'ma wit' de pitchfork<br /> +T'rowim over fence lak hay!<br /> +No, I don't want Fenian, t'ank you,<br /> +For to lif' de British yoke,<br /> +I can wear it leetle longer<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>On ma farm at Centre Stoke.<br /> +<br /> +So, if stranger cross de border<br /> +For hinvasion of dis' lan',<br /> +We will meet it in good order<br /> +Wit' strong weapon in de han'.<br /> +Yes, let Finnigan de Fenian<br /> +Cross de "line" to hole Quebec,<br /> +An' lak chicken of de story<br /> +She'll get somet'ing in de neck.<br /> +<br /> +We will grab it by de collar,<br /> +And some place dat's near de seat,<br /> +An' dere rags will mak' a flutter<br /> +In de gutter of de street;<br /> +An' ba Christmas she will fin' me<br /> +Wit' ma shoulder to de "yoke,"<br /> +Waiting for dat rag-tag army<br /> +Of hinvasion—watch ma smoke!<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> + +<h2>A LEAP-YEAR BALL AT LINGWICK<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +The night before last Hallowe'en<br /> +Tho' wet as any ever seen,<br /> +Must henceforth mark a date supreme<br /> +In Lingwick's social lore.<br /> +As on that eve the ladies all<br /> +Came forth to give their leap-year ball—<br /> +And long ere ten the dancing hall<br /> +Was crowded to the door.<br /> +<br /> +Since Scottish heroes sang duans<br /> +Upon the field of Prestonpans,<br /> +So fine a gathering of the clans<br /> +Was surely never seen.<br /> +And brilliant Byron's "ladies fair"<br /> +Who danced in Belgium's balmy air<br /> +Could never with our girls compare<br /> +In beauty's realm, I ween.<br /> +<br /> +Were I a Burns I'd sing their praise<br /> +In grateful sympathetic lays,<br /> +And tell them how a bard repays<br /> +The smiles on him bestowed.<br /> +O! for a pure poetic drift,<br /> +Or bard McRitchie's splendid gift,<br /> +To give those charming girls a lift<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>On chummy Hymen's road.<br /> +<br /> +Since first the red man trod those lands,<br /> +In happy, reckless, roving bands,<br /> +Where now the town of Lingwick stands,<br /> +Until the present time.<br /> +No festal scene deserved such note,<br /> +Of such a scene no poet wrote,<br /> +Tho' painted with a double coat<br /> +Of stirring prose or rhyme.<br /> +<br /> +The lively Galson girls were there,<br /> +With dancing eyes and wavy hair,<br /> +And roses stamped by caller air<br /> +On every blooming cheek.<br /> +And other ladies, fair and bright,<br /> +Who live near by, were there that night,<br /> +Contributing the keen delight<br /> +Of beauty, so to speak.<br /> +<br /> +Oh bachelors, how sweet to glide<br /> +With such bright charmers by one's side!<br /> +And ev'ry heart a surging tide<br /> +Of leap-year sentiment!<br /> +You might perambulate around<br /> +Until you'd hear the trumpet sound—<br /> +No better quarters could be found<br /> +To pitch your earthly tent.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span><br /> +At 12 o'clock the ladies came<br /> +And took each blushing(?) humbled swain<br /> +Across the road, where Eddie's dame<br /> +Had placed a royal feast.<br /> +Each charmer paid (alas how rare!)<br /> +Her own and hungry fellow's fare,<br /> +And splendid food was furnished there<br /> +For o'er an hour at least.<br /> +<br /> +We must congratulate each belle<br /> +From mountain, vale and Fisher Hill,<br /> +Who paid her leap-year tax so well<br /> +Last Friday night at Gould.<br /> +Had we our wish we'd gladly call<br /> +Twice yearly for a leap-year ball,<br /> +For surely we were happy all<br /> +The while the women ruled.<br /> +<br /> +And we beseech you throw your charms<br /> +Around the lonely mountain farms,<br /> +Where bachelors are up in arms<br /> +Against your luring spell.<br /> +Fan to a flame the sluggish smoke,<br /> +Place Gibourd in a double yoke,<br /> +And give friend Finlay Ian a poke<br /> +To keep him hale and well.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span><br /> +Dear girls, keep up your enterprise<br /> +And dazzle all those "bache's" eyes,<br /> +Before the present leap-year dies<br /> +And robs you of your rights.<br /> +Take pity on the lonely men<br /> +From "Midnight" to big corner "Ken,"<br /> +Or later on "it might have been"<br /> +Will rob your sleep o' nights.<br /> +<br /> +The 'legibles we'll briefly scan:<br /> +There's Merchant Donald B. Buchan,<br /> +Who is a dear, good-natured man,<br /> +And not too old to mend;<br /> +And Layfield, too, by George! you bet,<br /> +A closer friend it's hard to get—<br /> +Besiege their hearts, they're both to let,<br /> +And bliss will rule the end.<br /> +<br /> +And finally O'Norman "Hoe",<br /> +Can Cupid's dart e'er conquer you,<br /> +And penetrate your bosom through<br /> +To kindle there a flame?<br /> +Shall living mortal ever see<br /> +A bouncing baby on your knee<br /> +Whose lisping tones will add with glee<br /> +"Papa" unto your name.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> + +<h2>HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER<br /> +Or<br /> +THE HOLLERIN' HOHENZOLLERIN<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +Dear Gott! der weight of "right divine"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Iss on my shoulters heavy yet;</span><br /> +Und worries grow for me und mine<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For fear our thrones should be upset.</span><br /> +<br /> +Democracy disturbs my dreams<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und leaves Thy Villiam veak und vorn;</span><br /> +Der worldt iss upsite down, it seems,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since Chermany was made to mourn.</span><br /> +<br /> +Ve deemed der throne of "Nick" secure<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From Gottless hordes who scheme and scoff;</span><br /> +But foes of mineund Thine, impure,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rebelled und bowled der Romanoff!</span><br /> +<br /> +Und also Greece went on der skids,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Constantine, my Constantine!</span><br /> +Und other kinks may lose their lids<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till all are gone safe mine und Thine!</span><br /> +<br /> +If von by von ve lose our crown<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My schemes on earth vill be upset;</span><br /> +Und Gott! if Ireland turns us down<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ve're in der soup alretty yet!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span><br /> +Der Yankees, too, are now in France,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To aid der hateful Philistine,</span><br /> +Und swear they'll make der Kaiser dance<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Der Turkey trot across der Rhine!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">(Aside)</span><br /> +Yes, I vill dance und I vill trot,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Der Shottiss und der minuet,</span><br /> +But, by der power of "Me und Gott"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">U. Sam vill pay der piper yet!</span><br /> +<br /> +Gott, I've been faithful to my trust<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Since Thou dids't place me on der throne;</span><br /> +My sword wass neffer known to rust<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vile it coult yet extract a groan.</span><br /> +<br /> +Wheneffer yet I drew dot sword<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To make der helpless victim bleed,</span><br /> +I alvays called upon der Lort<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To guide my arm und bless der deed!</span><br /> +<br /> +I sink der ships on all der seas,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My submarines are on der chob!</span><br /> +Despairing cries invade der breeze<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und music's in der dying sob!</span><br /> +<br /> +I rain der pombs from oudt der sky,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On schools and hospitals below;</span><br /> +Der vimmen und der chiltren die—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For thus do ve reduce der foe!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span><br /> +Lort help me mit my war to prove<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To all der swine as they shoult know,</span><br /> +Thou are der ruler up above<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und I am ruler down below!</span><br /> +<br /> +I am der Moses as of oldt,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I smite der heathen hip and thigh—</span><br /> +Lort send me Aaron yet to holdt<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy fainting servant's handts on high!</span><br /> +<br /> +On Gideon still holdt der sun—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou dids't for "Josh" in years agone;</span><br /> +Und let der melancholy moon<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Still flood der vale of Ajalon!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 11em;">(Aside)</span><br /> +O Chermany! dear Chermany!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Der Lort of Hosts vill see you through!</span><br /> +Ve are der chosen people ve,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und not der Scotch or cunning Jew!</span><br /> +<br /> +Vonce, Lort, Thou knowest ve vere chums,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und everything did come my vay;</span><br /> +But now Thou'rt turning down der thumbs,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No matter how so loudt I bray!</span><br /> +<br /> +Remember, Chermany's Thy friendt;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upholdt it, Lort, for our dear sake;</span><br /> +Der line of Hintenburg is bent—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O help us, Gott, before it break!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span><br /> +I'm trusting in Thine aid divine,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und bray und fight mit shot and shell,</span><br /> +But Himmel fails to hold der line<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Against Canucks dot fight like hell!</span><br /> +<br /> +I bray at morning, bray at night,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Und bray at noon ven it is hot;</span><br /> +But Gott is keeping oudt of sight—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He answers not, He answers not!</span><br /> +<br /> +O! can it be, as scoffers say,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Der race iss for der von who runs?</span><br /> +Und dot no matter how ve bray<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Der Lort is mit der biggest guns?</span><br /> +<br /> +If so it be, then all iss lost;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Farewell, farewell, dear Chermany!</span><br /> +Lloyd Chorge can figure up der cost<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And charge it all to Gott und me!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<h2>HOW WE SETTLED THE ALASKAN<br /> +BOUNDARY QUESTION</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>These lines were penned long before the breaking out +of the present great war. Note the remarkable spirit of +prophesy which pervaded the poem, especially its allusion +to the Armenians.</p></div> + + +<div class='poem'> +Now that little Venezuela<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has her navy back in tow,</span><br /> +With the "allies" in the distance<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Waiting for the promised "dough",</span><br /> +It may not be deemed improper<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For the mind that loves to roam,</span><br /> +Just to focus its attention<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On some matters nearer home.</span><br /> +<br /> +We are also growing weary<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the "war clouds in the East",</span><br /> +Which bob up to entertain us<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Once or twice a year at least.</span><br /> +And we'd bear the "bobbing" better<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If it did not always bring</span><br /> +To the "concert of the Powers"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">An unfailing chance to sing.</span><br /> +<br /> +They are masterful musicians<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With chin music as their forte,</span><br /> +And a penchant strong for love songs<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When they serenade the Porte!</span><br /> +While they sing the Sultan dances<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like a strolling Dago's bear,</span><br /> +Till one really feels the presence<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of roast Turkey in the air!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span><br /> +Thus they exorcise the spirit<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of destruction in the Turk,</span><br /> +And adjure the imp to vamoose<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And forego its bloody work.</span><br /> +Doth he vamoose? Yes, a season,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To return with "seven more,"</span><br /> +While the Sultan's still insultin'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And his fingers still in gore.</span><br /> +<br /> +But we'll leave this doubtful concert<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And its harem-scarem tones,</span><br /> +Meant to drown the voice appealing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the dying Christian's groans;</span><br /> +And examine rather closer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into troubles of our own.</span><br /> +To uproot the crops of mischief<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which old Satan may have sown.</span><br /> +<br /> +People must with friendly feelings,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the best intentions, try</span><br /> +To elucidate the muddle<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Termed "Alaskan boundary."</span><br /> +There's a rumble in that region,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And it shouldn't louder grow—</span><br /> +Just a little cloud of worry<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Mid the flurry of the snow.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span><br /> +Why, oh why, should kindred people<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Quarrel over hunks of ice?</span><br /> +If they knew each other better<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They would settle in a trice.</span><br /> +But Miss Canada is frigid<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And Columbia is cold,</span><br /> +So in presence of the couple<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">There's an iciness untold.</span><br /> +<br /> +Harken to the one bemoaning<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Up among the northern lights,</span><br /> +How that 'tother is a "squatter"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And encroaching on her rights.</span><br /> +"It is mine by deed and title,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For as everybody knows—</span><br /> +Not to mention Rudyard Kipling—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I am 'Lady of the Snows'.</span><br /> +<br /> +"See my cousin, Hail Columbia,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who has settled thereabout,</span><br /> +She will soon take Root and Lodge there<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If I do not Turner<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> out.</span><br /> +When I asked her 'please to vacate',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can you guess the jade's response?</span><br /> +Why, she sweetly smiled and answered,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'After you, my dear Alphonse'!"</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span><br /> +Thus the question rests at present,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till the arbitrators meet;</span><br /> +And we trust when said time cometh<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They will gravely take their seat</span><br /> +Near the base of all the trouble,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On the apex of the Pole,</span><br /> +Where they'll exercise the virtue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">At the least of keeping cool!</span><br /> +<br /> +Furl your "colors," then, ye fair ones,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In a truce of amity,</span><br /> +Till this august body settles<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the "boundary" should be;</span><br /> +We've emerged from clouds of discord<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And should never more go back</span><br /> +Whether Skagway's 'neath Old Glory<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or beneath the Union Jack!</span><br /> +</div> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> Root, Lodge and Turner, the three American arbitrators.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<h2>DE GUARDS OF LAFAYETTE</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +Ma Rosie say to me today,<br /> +"You mus' prepare, ol' man,<br /> +For to join de Allied army<br /> +In de ranks of Honcle Sam.<br /> +De worl' is full commotion<br /> +Since explosion of de Hun,<br /> +An' de dev's to pay for Belgium<br /> +An' "position in de sun".<br /> +<br /> +I say, "all rat, ol' woman,<br /> +Let de summon come today,<br /> +An' you'll fin' ol' Joseph ready<br /> +For to arm an' march away!<br /> +I'm as good for carry knapsack<br /> +An' to shoulder up ma gun<br /> +As I was in Reil rebellion<br /> +On de far Saskatchewan."<br /> +<br /> +De home of ma adoption<br /> +Is as good a place for me<br /> +As across de line in Canadaw,<br /> +Ma native counteree.<br /> +Ma work, ma home, ma frien's, are here—<br /> +In fac', de whol' dem set!<br /> +So w'at can I do but join wit you<br /> +In de Guards of Lafayette!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span><br /> +I don't care me for nobodda<br /> +But stan' up for w'at's right,<br /> +An' if Honcle Sam he geeve de word<br /> +An' say we got to fight:<br /> +Good-bye ma work on Amoskeag,<br /> +I leave it quick you bet,<br /> +An' join de boy wit' utmos' joy<br /> +On de Guards of Lafayette!<br /> +<br /> +So don't mak' fuss abo't dis cuss,<br /> +An' don' be tak' it hard<br /> +If I, ol' Joe, go soon to show<br /> +Ma colors in de Guard.<br /> +You say I got some babby—<br /> +I mus' stay rat by dem? Nit!<br /> +I will march beneat' ol' Glory<br /> +In de Guards of Lafayette!<br /> +<br /> +O ain't it mak' sensation<br /> +On de streets of Manchestar<br /> +W'en de order come from Honcle Sam<br /> +To march us off to war.<br /> +Nobodda'll know dat dis is Joe<br /> +From dear ol' Nicolet,<br /> +W'en off I march jus' stiff lak starch<br /> +In de Guards of Lafayette!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span><br /> +Dear Woodrow, would you be so good<br /> +As send us Teddy R.,<br /> +To be commander of de chief<br /> +An' leader of de Guar'?<br /> +Dis war, ma friend, is quick to end<br /> +If battle stage is set<br /> +For bol' Ted, on Armageddon<br /> +Leading Guards of Lafayette!<br /> +<br /> +O sure it's be proud day for me<br /> +I nevair saw before,<br /> +W'en Johnny Bull an' Honcle Sam<br /> +Fight sides by side once more!<br /> +It's mak' one combination<br /> +Dat's tarnation sure to win<br /> +W'en Old Glory joins de Allies<br /> +On dat rough road to Berlin!<br /> +<br /> +Mos' place I go dey ask me, "Joe,<br /> +Who start dis gol darn war?<br /> +Was it de Sultan-Kaiser,<br /> +Or de Austro Hungry Tsar?"<br /> +I hanswer, "well, it's hard to tell<br /> +Who start dis hell abroad,<br /> +But spite of Hun, de gas an' gun,<br /> +We'll finish it, ba God!"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span><br /> +Den Rosie, dear, dry up de tear,<br /> +An' cheer up lak ma joy—<br /> +You know de Hun is turn his gun<br /> +On leetle girl an' boy!<br /> +Now dat we mus' join in de fuss<br /> +And Honcle Sam say, "Get!"<br /> +Jus' wish us well an' shout lak hell<br /> +For de Guards of Lafayette!<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE LUMBERJACK<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +We have songs on many topics,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New and old, beneath the sun,</span><br /> +But, alas, in many cases,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Minstrelsy is overdone;</span><br /> +<br /> +So I'll sing a song of labor—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where the muse is rather slack—</span><br /> +And my theme shall be of timber<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the hardy lumberjack.</span><br /> +<br /> +Now republican traditions<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Are so grafted in our bones,</span><br /> +That e'en monarchs of the forest<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Must be tumbled from their thrones.</span><br /> +<br /> +And to raze those ancient strongholds<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We have armies of the axe,</span><br /> +Plucky pioneers of progress,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Known to all as lumberjacks.</span><br /> +<br /> +He may lack the wings of angels<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the sanctity of saints:</span><br /> +If a town's in need of painting<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He may furnish all the paints.</span><br /> +<br /> +Yet he lapses but a moment<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And again he hies him back</span><br /> +Close unto the heart of nature,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Does the lonesome lumberjack.</span><br /> +<br /> +There amid his wild surroundings<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the crooning of the trees,</span><br /> +He finds balm for mind and body<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Borne on every passing breeze.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span><br /> +There is something strangely healing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the magic of the myrrh,</span><br /> +In the odor of the cedar<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the fragrance of the fir!</span><br /> +<br /> +Grind your axes, O my heroes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Point your peavies, file your saws;</span><br /> +Let your ropes and chains and cables<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be examined now for flaws.</span><br /> +<br /> +Fire up the iron donkey,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till each rivet feels the strain,</span><br /> +Lumberjack has had his outing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And returns to camp again!</span><br /> +<br /> +There is music in the axe fall<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As it sounds upon the ear;</span><br /> +There is music in the sawing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When the dust is flying clear—</span><br /> +<br /> +Aye, there's music for the lumberjack<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Magnificent of sound,</span><br /> +In the crashing of the timber<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As it thunders to the ground.</span><br /> +<br /> +He will never lack for music<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While the owl is keeping time</span><br /> +With the ceaseless serenading<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the frog within the slime.</span><br /> +<br /> +But the music ever sounding,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With the sweetest of appeals,</span><br /> +Is the ding-dong of the iron gong<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That calls him to his meals!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span><br /> +He's a credit to his calling,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To his country and his clan:</span><br /> +There is not a dude among them—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Every lumberjack's a man.</span><br /> +<br /> +And you'll find him ever cheerful,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the sunshine or the rain,</span><br /> +From the camps of B. Columbia<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the lumber camps of Maine.</span><br /> +<br /> +He may show a rough exterior,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But his heart is warm within—</span><br /> +Mark him poring o'er that letter,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Just received from home and kin:</span><br /> +<br /> +Tears will gather hot and blinding<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he cannot hold them back,</span><br /> +Reading words from distant loved ones<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">to their absent lumberjack!</span><br /> +<br /> +'Tis, perchance, a loving message<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From a sweetheart far away,</span><br /> +Or a tender admonition<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">From a mother old and gray.</span><br /> +<br /> +O, ye lumberjacks, remember,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That wherever ye may roam,</span><br /> +There are anxious hearts awaiting<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For an answer "back at home"!</span><br /> +<br /> +When the sun in golden glory<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Hath descended in the west,</span><br /> +They indulge in song and story<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till they seek their bunks for rest:</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span><br /> +There to dream of scenes of childhood,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Amid mountain stream or glen,</span><br /> +Till old Sol in morning splendor<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Calls them to their tasks again.</span><br /> +<br /> +Soft and soothing are the voices<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As the shades of evening fall,</span><br /> +Stealing gently through the forest—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brooding calmly over all.</span><br /> +<br /> +By yon lake a loon is calling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And the night bird answers back,</span><br /> +Keeping vigil o'er the slumbers<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the weary lumberjack.</span><br /> +<br /> +O, the lumberjack is loyal<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he'll surely see to it,</span><br /> +In the grind against the Kaiser<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That each axe will "do its bit";</span><br /> +<br /> +He will spruce up for the allies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till ten thousand airplanes hum,</span><br /> +All to win the war for freedom<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And democracy, by gum!</span><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />Chorus<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +Grind your axes, O my heroes,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Point your peavies, file your saws,</span><br /> +Let your ropes and chains and cables<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be examined now for flaws:</span><br /> +Fire up the iron donkey<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Till each rivet feels the strain,</span><br /> +Lumberjack will help the Allies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Win the war with ship and plane!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<h2>PADDY THE BOOK AGENT</h2> + +<div class='center'>Air<br /> + +<span class='big'>LARRY O'GAFF</span><br /> +——————</div> + + +<div class='poem'><br /> +The sun rose in splendor one foine summer morning<br /> +That marked me first effort at selling a book.<br /> +It's rays with soft beauty the landscape adorning<br /> +Sint thramps to seek bliss in some cool shady nook.<br /> +But no such rethrate the hot moments beguiling<br /> +Afforded relief to poor Pathrick O'Reilly,<br /> +Who canvassed that day epidermis parboiling<br /> +In air that would stifle a Florida cook.<br /> +<br /> +I ambled along wid me pack on me shoulder,<br /> +And prayed for a cloud to o'ershadow me path:<br /> +Says I to meself, if it doesn't grow cowlder<br /> +Poor Pat you'll be afther sure milting to death.<br /> +I entered a town an' the first house I came to<br /> +Looked much loike O'Grady's, I intered the same to,<br /> +And called for the misthress, though troth half ashamed to,<br /> +An' sat for a moment to catch at me breath.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span><br /> +Be the council o' Cork I was not long awaiting,<br /> +The misthress appeared, looking black as a rook.<br /> +"The devil ye are wid yer impertince satin,<br /> +Yerself in me kitchen," she said wid a look.<br /> +Says I, "How is your rheumatiz, Mrs. O'Grady?"<br /> +And then quite politely I asked, "Can ye rade ye<br /> +Ould hathen, if not be me troth ye are nady;<br /> +Ye want to be afther sure buyin' a book."<br /> +<br /> +She looked quite intint at aich bould handsome fature,<br /> +And warm as it was, I could see that she shook.<br /> +"O'll tache ye a lesson," she scramed, "Ye vile crature,<br /> +Ye cross twixt an ape an' a Bowery street crook!"<br /> +She jumped at me troat thin an' would you belave me,<br /> +As quick as a wink through the dure did she have me,<br /> +And howled as I struck—will her tones ever lave me?—<br /> +"The divil fly off wid yerself an' yer book."<br /> +<br /> +I left a square inch of me cheek at O'Grady's,<br /> +An' limped wid the rest to the house just fornint.<br /> +A winch in the dureway was paling some praties,<br /> +Who watched me approach wid a quizzical squint.<br /> +Says I wid the best of me Chesterfield graces,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>"Good day me fair maid, ain't it hotter than blazes,"<br /> +An' coaxingly swate I did ask, "If ye plaze, Miss,<br /> +To ordher a piece av me illigant print!"<br /> +<br /> +Thank God for his gifts! this colleen was a daisy,<br /> +Who flashed me a glance from her eyes of deep blue;<br /> +And smiling so swately said, "Pathrick, go aisy,<br /> +I see ye were born where the blarney stone grew."<br /> +"O yes, I was born in ould Ireland, God bless ye,<br /> +The compliment sure makes me long to caress ye,<br /> +And now be me troth I am timpted to press ye<br /> +To take all me books an' the book agent too!"<br /> +<br /> +We published the bans then to tell Oi'm not minding,<br /> +Our lips did the printing as ach wint to press—<br /> +The type was O. K. and O. K. was the binding,<br /> +The sthrongest av bonds are two hearts that caress.<br /> +The saints be adored for the joys they were sending—<br /> +The angels be bless'd on our nuptials attending—<br /> +For nothing can aquel in loife till its ending<br /> +The gift of a mate loike the wan I possess!<br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 371px;"> +<img src="images/fig_004.png" width="371" height="600" alt="I am now one Lumberjack." title="" /> +<span class="caption">I am now one Lumberjack.</span> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p> + +<h2>JEAN LABONNE.</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +I am now one lumberjack,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rosemarie,</span><br /> +An' I live in tumble shack<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">By some tree;</span><br /> +Twice a year I leave ma lair,<br /> +Wit' the fir spines in ma hair,<br /> +An' win' up at Totem Square,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Seattlee.</span><br /> +</div> + + +<div class='center'><br />CHORUS</div> + +<div class='poem'><br /> +O, I'm good wan all aroun',<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rosemarie;</span><br /> +I'm de bes' man on de Soun'<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Wit' peavie.</span><br /> +In de sunshine or de wreck<br /> +I am always on de deck,<br /> +Jean Labonne from ol' Kebec—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Dat is me!</span><br /> +<br /> +On de fourt' of each July,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rosemarie;</span><br /> +An' w'en Chris'mas day come nigh,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">You can see</span><br /> +Ev'ry lumber son of gun<br /> +On de States of Washington<br /> +Jus' lak Jean Baptiste Labonne,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">On de spree!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span><br /> +I am call' de "Skookum Kid,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rosemarie;</span><br /> +I'm grease lightning on de skid<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Yes siree;</span><br /> +I can "team" or "tend de hook,"<br /> +I can "bark" or "fall" or "buck,"<br /> +An' w'en whisky's down de cook<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">I'm "cookee!"</span><br /> +<br /> +O, you'd lak for tak' one ride,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rosemarie;</span><br /> +Do'n de steep ol' mo'nta'n side<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">'Long wit' me;</span><br /> +Dare is notting lak a jog<br /> +Do'n dat mo'nta'n on a log<br /> +Clinging to an iron dog,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hully gee!</span><br /> +<br /> +But w'en Skookum leave de rail,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Rosemarie;</span><br /> +For an independen' trail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Thru de tree;</span><br /> +Den you see somebodda jomp<br /> +Lak de dev' along de dump,<br /> +An' climb up on wan beeg stump,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Dat is me!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CANADIANS GUARD YOUR OWN.</h2> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>During the Boer War at a time when the British forces +were suffering severe reverses a certain Quebec paper stated +that the British Empire was built on "feet of clay" and predicted +that it would, like its Babylonian prototype, suffer a +sudden fall.</p> + +<p>We trust it's a long long way to that "fall," and thank +God the dear old flag still waves.</p></div> +<div class='center'><br /> +——————</div> + +<div class='poem'><br /> +"On feet of clay," false prophets say,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"On feet of clay, the Empire stands";</span><br /> +Great Power which braves tempestuous waves<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For Freedom's cause in many lands.</span><br /> +<br /> +Write not again, misguided pen,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Write not again our "woes" upon.</span><br /> +Compare us not with that vain sot<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose misrule doomed old Babylon.</span><br /> +<br /> +Is it because you love their laws,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it because you love the Boer,</span><br /> +You thus assail with bitter wail<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The flag which waves your country o'er?</span><br /> +<br /> +Flag of the brave, long may it wave!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flag of the brave still rule the sea!</span><br /> +While Britain fights for human rights—<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">For progress and for liberty.</span><br /> +<br /> +Reverses may be ours today;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Reverses may our arms attend:</span><br /> +But Britain's might—with Britain's right—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Will surely conquer in the end.</span><br /> +<br /> +Unwise Semaine why thus complain?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Unwise Semaine why idly rave?</span><br /> +If it be "sin" for us to win<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis sin to liberate the slave!</span><br /> +<br /> +Pray cant no more anent the Boer,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray cant no more, 'tis but a ruse</span><br /> +For venting rage against an age<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ahead of Semaine Religieuse.</span><br /> +<br /> +Our country needs no clashing creeds,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our country needs no cliques nor clans.</span><br /> +United all to stand or fall,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Let's still be true Canadians!</span><br /> +<br /> +A glorious name our children claim,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A glorious heritage is theirs;</span><br /> +Then why should we thus disagree,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And strew their path with racial snares?</span><br /> +<br /> +The time is near, the edict's clear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The time is near when racial strife</span><br /> +Will vanish quite before the light<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">That ushers in a nobler life.</span><br /> +<br /> +Your destined lot, deny it not,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Your destined lot is clear and plain;</span><br /> +Nor vicious kicks against the pricks<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Can e'er retard the coming reign!</span><br /> +<br /> +No bigot's sway shall rule our day;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No bigot of a bygone age</span><br /> +Shall ever stand in this free land<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To preach a gospel born of rage.</span><br /> +<br /> +Proclaiming peace, let rancor cease;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Proclaiming peace, let strife be slain.</span><br /> +Let Saxon trait and Gallic hate<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be merged in strong Canadian strain!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> + +<h2>GUARD THE GAELIC<br /> +An Exhortation to the Gael.<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +Is it not our bounden right<br /> +To uphold with all our might,<br /> +And with tongue and pen to fight<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For our native Gaelic?</span><br /> +<br /> +Guard the language known to Eve,<br /> +Ere the Serpent did deceive—<br /> +And the last one we believe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mellow, matchless Gaelic!</span><br /> +<br /> +Pity the disloyal clown<br /> +Who will dwell awhile in Town,<br /> +And returning wear a frown<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If he hears the Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +'Tis amusing to behold<br /> +Little misses ten years old,<br /> +When they leave the country fold<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How they lose the Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +Some gay natives of the soil,<br /> +Cross "the line" a little while<br /> +And returning, deem it "style"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">To deny the Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +Lads and lassies in their teens<br /> +Wearing airs of kings and queens—<br /> +Just a taste of Boston beans<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Makes them lose their Gaelic!</span><br /> +<br /> +They return with finer clothes,<br /> +Speaking "Yankee" through their nose!<br /> +That's the way the Gaelic goes—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pop! goes the Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +Tho' the so-called "tony set"<br /> +Teach them quickly to forget,<br /> +They will all be loyal yet<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To their mother Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +Then abjure such silly pride<br /> +Cast the ragged thing aside—<br /> +Let your mongrel "English" slide<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rather than the Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +What a dire calamity<br /> +And how lonesome we would be<br /> +If our honored Seannachie,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Failed to charm in Gaelic!</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span><br /> +Better far the "mother tongue"—<br /> +Language in which mother sung<br /> +Long ago, when we were young—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ever tender Gaelic!</span><br /> +<br /> +Findlay's ever ready muse,<br /> +Stricken dumb, would soon refuse<br /> +People further to enthuse,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If he lost his Gaelic!</span><br /> +<br /> +And Buchanan, how could he<br /> +Sell his soda or his tea<br /> +On this side of "Talamh a righ,"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If he lost his Gaelic?</span><br /> +<br /> +Also Merchant Edward Mac<br /> +Would not sell so much tomac<br /> +If his stock was found to lack<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lusty Lewis Gaelic!</span><br /> +<br /> +And Pennoyer, what would you<br /> +At the Gould post office do<br /> +When you'd hear from not a few<br /> +"Ca mar u ha u fean a diubh,"<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span><span style="margin-left: 1em;">If you lost your Gaelic?</span><br /> +<br /> +Little Donald with the plaid<br /> +O'er his buirdly shoulder laid,<br /> +Would go dancing in the shade,<br /> +And his glory soon would fade<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If he lost his Gaelic.</span><br /> +<br /> +From O'Groat's to <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'lands'end'">lands' end</ins>, too,<br /> +What would brother Scotsmen do—<br /> +All the loyal clansmen who<br /> +But a single language know,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If they lost their Gaelic?</span><br /> +<br /> +What would then become of those<br /> +Poems grand, in rhyme or prose,<br /> +Which in stately measure flows<br /> +From "Beinn Oran's" spotless snows!<br /> +"Chaibar Faidth"—the best that grows—<br /> +"Fhir a baitha"—how he rows!<br /> +What, I ask, would happen those<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If we lost the Gaelic?</span><br /> +<br /> +Then uphold the magic tongue<br /> +Which through mystic Eden rung<br /> +When Creation still was young—<br /> +Language in which Adam sung<br /> +To his Eve, Earth's first love song;<br /> +When the morning stars were flung<br /> +Into space, where since they've clung—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ancient, Glorious Gaelic!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/deco_002.png" width="500" height="131" alt="American Eagle" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<h2>THE AMERICAN EAGLE<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +Lofty is his habitation, peerless dweller of the skies—<br /> +Unafraid of all creation, where his rock-ribbed turrets rise;<br /> +There's a confidence unbounded hedging 'round his solitude<br /> +That should warn marauding mongrels with designs upon his brood!<br /> +<br /> +O, the outlook from his aerie is a grand one, it is true—<br /> +Matchless beauty in the vistas which unfold before his view;<br /> +Might and right and wealth and glory that shall never know decline<br /> +Are his attributes to conquer ruthless robbers of the Rhine!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span><br /> +You invaded his dominions, sowing discord on the way;<br /> +Your besotted agents plotted to o'erthrow his mighty sway:<br /> +Using all the wiles of Willie on pacifist Bob and Pat,<br /> +Till some eaglets oversilly scarcely knew where they were at.<br /> +<br /> +He was patient with your pirates since you first began to raid<br /> +And usurp his habitation to pursue your hell-born trade;<br /> +He was patient with your plotting till you piled the final straws<br /> +Which broke down his toleration—now, ye devils, mind his claws!<br /> +<br /> +He looked on in consternation, scarce believing what he saw.<br /> +When you sank his ships in anger in defiance of all law:<br /> +Killing women and their children with a fiendishness unknown<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>Since the first bloodthirsty monster was misplaced upon a throne.<br /> +<br /> +Now the eagle's wrath is burning, he is eager for the fray,<br /> +And the robbers who aroused him long will rue the bitter day<br /> +When he sweeps down from his aerie in the fury of his fire—<br /> +Sudden death will clutch the vitals of the victims of his ire!<br /> +<br /> +Yea, the eagle's wings are spreading, nobly spreading to the breeze,<br /> +And their awful sweep shall bear him over land and over seas:<br /> +Men and money move in millions where those mighty pinions rest,<br /> +And God help misguided minions who have monkeyed with his nest!<br /> +<br /> +Brave, determined northern neighbor, hold the "hills" so dearly won—<br /> +Hold the hills until the Eagle strikes with you to crush the Hun!<br /> +Courage! Allies, friends of freedom, in this war we're all akin—<br /> +Carry on! Old Glory's with you on the red road to Berlin!<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> + +<h2>IN MEMORY<br /> +of<br /> +DONALD McLEOD</h2> + +<div class='center'>————————</div> +<div class="blockquot"><p>Of North Hill, Lingwick, Who Died of Smallpox, at Flagstaff, +Arizona, on the 2nd day of March, 1882.</p></div> +<div class='center'>————————<br /><br /></div> + + +<div class='poem'> +The sun hath set and leaves the day, as when the soul hath left its clay,<br /> +The pale soft tints of twilight spread from east to west.<br /> +The evening breeze that fans my cheek with mellow cadence seems to speak,<br /> +Then sighing onward through the dusk it sinks to rest.<br /> +<br /> +On nights like this my fancy strays, to loved ones lost in other days;<br /> +Whom gold had tempted to the sunset land afar;<br /> +Brave boys whose hopes of future wealth were blasted by thy power O Death,<br /> +Whose mandates wage on old and young a constant war.<br /> +Among the lads so kind and true, who sought the land of golden hue,<br /> +To meet amid its glittering hopes an early doom,<br /> +Was Lingwick's strongest, lealest man, the joy and pride of all his clan,<br /> +As brave a youth as ever graced a Compton home.<br /> +<br /> +Dear comrade of my younger days, my muse is weak to sing thy praise,<br /> +But love is strong howe'er so feeble be my strain;<br /> +And though you're sleeping cold and still, on Flagstaff's distant pine-clad hill,<br /> +Fond memory often flits to thee across the plain.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span><br /> +I loved e'er childhood's days were passed: I'll love you on until the last;<br /> +E'en when the clouds of death approach I'll think of thee;<br /> +Oh, bitter fate! Oh, woeful hour! that cut thee down in manhood's power;<br /> +Thrice bitter if death's chains could bind eternally.<br /> +<br /> +But blessed promise, hopeful friend, that tells us death is not the end,<br /> +That brighter prospects loom for all beyond the wave.<br /> +Oh, sing aloud the glad refrain, that friend with friend will meet again!<br /> +For love like this can ne'er be conquered by the grave.<br /> +<br /> +What though the red men roam at will, from arid plain to cooler hill,<br /> +Regardless of the mounds that lie amid the groves:<br /> +What though our children find their graves with ghosts of long departed braves,<br /> +The spot is one the God of nature dearly loves.<br /> +<br /> +In Arizona's distant land, where cyclones drift the heated sand,<br /> +And where the tall, majestic pine tree branches wave;<br /> +Where gaunt coyotes prowl for prey, through storm and calm, by night and day,<br /> +There in their midst there lies a lone, neglected grave.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span><br /> +Were eloquence immortal mine I'd sing of scenes the most sublime,<br /> +Of any nature ever lavished here below.<br /> +God's majesty seems here unfurled as <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'elewhere'">elsewhere</ins> not in all the world,—<br /> +An earthly paradise o'erspread by heaven's glow.<br /> +<br /> +How fitting that thy sun went down, so near the spot that wears earth's crown,—<br /> +The Colorado Canyon country, weird and dim;<br /> +No grander land beneath the skies in which to die, in which to rise;<br /> +And nature's God will care for all who sleep in Him.<br /> +<br /> +What though, alas, fond earthly hopes are buried in yon western slopes,<br /> +And gentle mothers grieve for loved ones lying there:<br /> +Though maidens sigh with sad unrest, for lovers true who died out west;<br /> +The bitter heartache soon will cease and all be fair.<br /> +<br /> +But Donald's manly voice still rings within our ears, and memory clings<br /> +To all the charms that marked his life while still below:<br /> +And often now our fancy's flight doth wing its journey to that night,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>That marks his lonely death amid the mountain snow.<br /> +<br /> +The prairie wolves of stealthy tread already seemed to scent the dead;<br /> +Their fitful howls were borne upon the midnight air;<br /> +The western world was wrapped in gloom, from sandy waste to heaven's dome,<br /> +When Donald closed his weary eyes and passed from care.<br /> +<br /> +The air within the mountain camp was uncongenial, cold and damp:<br /> +And springtide gales were moaning dismally outside:<br /> +No loving hand was there to press his fevered brow with fond caress,<br /> +No gentle voice to whisper comfort when he died.<br /> +<br /> +Dear Balloch Ban, thou'rt now at rest; thy sun went down far in the West.<br /> +Alas! no more to rise, until the Judgment Day;<br /> +No truer heart e'er ceased to beat, no braver soul O Death did greet,<br /> +Thy awful presence since the earth hath owned thy sway.<br /> +<br /> +And now he sleeps beneath the sod, where grand old mountain pine trees nod<br /> +Their lofty plumes beneath the far-off, distant dome!<br /> +Oh, stranger, should you linger near, drop on this lonely grave a tear,<br /> +In memory of the boy that sleeps so far from home.<br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<h2>OVER THE TOP<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +A lusty lad from Lewis,—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bright gem from Britain's crown—</span><br /> +Assailed by Huns with gas and guns<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In "No Man's Land" was down.</span><br /> +<br /> +No power on earth can save him,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'Tis madness, then, to try;</span><br /> +Still to the deed sprang forth with speed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A balloch ban from Skye!</span><br /> +<br /> +He volunteered to enter<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That zone of certain death,</span><br /> +And unafraid went forth to aid,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While thousands held their breath.</span><br /> +<br /> +Thru all that hell of fire<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He sped like mountain deer—</span><br /> +On shell-torn ground his comrade found,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And bore him to the rear.</span><br /> +<br /> +Their comrades gather 'round them<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To do what mortals can:</span><br /> +But—cruel fate!—they found them<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Beyond the help of man.</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span><br /> +One whispers, "Da mar ha u?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Gla vadh," the friend replied;</span><br /> +Then rescuer and rescued<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Went over" side by side!</span><br /> +<br /> +How marred the manly beauty!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Now torn by shot and shell—</span><br /> +Ye Huns have done your duty<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And served your master well!</span><br /> +<br /> +Poor bleeding, broken bodies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To mother earth consign—</span><br /> +The spirit of the laddies<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye cannot more confine.</span><br /> +<br /> +Over the top together—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Over the great gray host—</span><br /> +Homing like birds of freedom,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Back to their rock-bound coast.</span><br /> +<br /> +Over the top together!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Out from the fighting list:</span><br /> +Home where the purple heather<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Blooms in the Highland mist.</span><br /> +<br /> +Sons of mothers returning—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Souls from the clod set free:</span><br /> +Back where the home guards, yearning,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Pray that their eyes might see—</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span><br /> +See through the veil between them,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Though but a brief, brief glance,</span><br /> +Into the eyes of loved ones,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dead on the fields of France!</span><br /> +<br /> +Home where the curlew's calling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Notes that are wild and free!</span><br /> +Home, where the mist is falling<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into a storm-tossed sea.</span><br /> +<br /> +Parents of brave, dead soldiers,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dear sisters, sweethearts, wives,</span><br /> +Is there no balm in Gilead<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For all the dear lost lives?</span><br /> +<br /> +Yes, there's a balm in knowing<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They died for you and me:</span><br /> +Their precious blood bestowing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The price of liberty!</span><br /> +<br /> +Dear lusty lad from Lewis:<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brave blue-eyed boy from Skye:</span><br /> +In this great war you show us<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How bravely men can die!</span><br /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<h2>THE <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'ALKILI'">ALKALI</ins> LAND<br /> + +or<br /> + +A-ROAMING I WOULD GO.<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +I left my old home and my friends in the East,<br /> +Ambitious to better my fortunes, forsooth;<br /> +And seek amid scenes of the strenuous West,<br /> +The gold which had gilded the dreams of my youth.<br /> +<br /> +But gold not alone, was the dochus mo chree<br /> +Which painted that faraway country so fair;<br /> +A lure more compelling was beckoning me—<br /> +The maiden I loved since my childhood was there!<br /> +<br /> +I did what a man without money must do,<br /> +Just walked when the "brakies" were looking too sharp.<br /> +I sang when I felt in the humor, 'tis true—<br /> +When lonesome, like David I hung up my harp!<br /> +<br /> +I envied the lot of the fellow inside,<br /> +Who traveled in comfort asleep or awake;<br /> +While I, of all comfort and slumber denied,<br /> +Was beating my way on the beam of a brake!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span><br /> +Thus onward I journeyed by night and by day,<br /> +Combating the problems of food and of rest—<br /> +Content as I traveled the wearisome way<br /> +To know I was nearing the wonderful West.<br /> +<br /> +My pilgrimage, first uneventful and slow,<br /> +Changed color as Texas' vast reaches I struck.<br /> +Arizona the arid, and New Mexico—<br /> +Half hell and half heaven, were also my luck.<br /> +<br /> +When tortured and weak by the heat of the sand,<br /> +And swollen my tongue and the water was done,<br /> +I wondered no more as I passed through the land<br /> +At the myriad bones bleaching white in the sun.<br /> +<br /> +Yes, on as I plodded the limitless range,<br /> +In that land of hot sand and eternal clear skies,<br /> +How oft in my thirst did I long for a change<br /> +To my own native hills, where the watersprings rise!<br /> +O Compton beloved! what visions arose,<br /> +Of thy hills and dark vales and thy cold mountain streams!<br /> +And each fountain-like fuadhran<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> which bubbles and flows,<br /> +On the farm back at home in the land of my dreams!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span><br /> +Some tell me the beauty of Nature, abroad,<br /> +Surpasses in grandeur the country we boast—<br /> +They'd alter their views if they traversed the road<br /> +I wearily tramped on my way to the "Coast".<br /> +<br /> +There may be a spot in some faraway clime<br /> +Where Nature in robes of perfection is dressed;<br /> +But give me her moods and her image sublime<br /> +As seen in the wild, woolly wastes of the West!<br /> +<br /> +I slept with the red men who roam through that land—<br /> +Gaunt remnant that tells of the white man's abuse;<br /> +And often, although I could not understand,<br /> +Was I lulled by the soft clucking language they use.<br /> +<br /> +We never took thought on occasions like these<br /> +Of the dangers which lurked as we lay on the ground—<br /> +Though the howl of coyote was borne past on the breeze,<br /> +And the rattlesnake coiled with an ominous sound!<br /> +<br /> +Asleep 'neath the stars of that beautiful clime,<br /> +In the shadowy gloom that same mesa had cast,<br /> +Undisturbed in my slumbers, I'd dream of the time<br /> +When the long dreary miles still ahead would be passed.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span><br /> +Mysterious mesas! how ghostly ye loom!<br /> +How spectral and huge o'er the alkali waste;<br /> +The secrets of ages thy vastness entomb,<br /> +Are seemingly safe in thy mystical breast!<br /> +<br /> +When shadows of even' crept over the land,<br /> +And mountains around me grew ghostly and grey,<br /> +The fringe of the foothills I anxiously scanned<br /> +For lithe, tawny forms ever prowling for prey.<br /> +<br /> +Oft during my journey I fancied that rain<br /> +Fell cool from a cloud on my thirst-swollen lips;<br /> +Yet cloudless the sky o'er that quivering plain—<br /> +'Twas the last ray of hope undergoing eclipse!<br /> +<br /> +At times would the lure of this mirage prevail,<br /> +Till, reason returning, I'd hasten me back;<br /> +For I knew the safe trail was to follow the rail<br /> +Gleaming hot in the sun on the Santa Fe track!<br /> +<br /> +The phantoms of fever thus beckoned in vain,<br /> +Where better and stronger than I had been lost;<br /> +Though the hell of Mohave was scorching my brain,<br /> +I crossed it in safety and struck for the Coast.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span><br /> +O boundless Pacific! I deem it no loss<br /> +To flee to thy arms from the cactus and sand;<br /> +How sweet on thy deep, heaving bosom to toss<br /> +After parching so long in the alkali land!<br /> +<br /> +I boarded a schooner that slopped in the bay—<br /> +A tub of a ship for Seattle outbound—<br /> +And up from old Frisco we wallowed our way<br /> +To lovely Seattle, the Queen of the Sound.<br /> +<br /> +And there on a hill, in a beautiful spot,<br /> +Overlooking Lake Union's low murmuring wave,<br /> +The love of my youth, whom so long I had sought,<br /> +Alone among strangers I found—in her grave!<br /> +</div> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> Water spring.</p></div> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> +<h2>A CHRISTMAS DREAM.<br /> +——————</h2> + + +<div class='poem'> +On Christmas night I sallied forth,<br /> +To the Red Mountain in the north;<br /> +The bright abode of men of worth<br /> +'Twixt here and heaven;<br /> +Where Finlay's stakes in mother earth<br /> +Are firmly driven.<br /> +<br /> +I ambled up the village road,<br /> +Past many an Irishman's abode,<br /> +And carried quite a heavy load—<br /> +The most inside;<br /> +I faith sincerely thanked the code<br /> +The way was wide.<br /> +<br /> +Here conscience loudly whispered, "Dhu,<br /> +How oft hath it been told to you,<br /> +The end that way would lead you to<br /> +Should you persist—<br /> +With soldiers of the ribbon blue<br /> +At once enlist."<br /> +<br /> +I answered conscience, "give me peace,<br /> +The time of pledges draws apace,<br /> +When we must swear to shun the glass<br /> +And all its riot;<br /> +We've but a single week of grace<br /> +So let's enjoy it."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span><br /> +I followed up by Keenan's gate<br /> +Unto the "turn" where two ways meet,<br /> +Thence to the left the mountain street<br /> +Would guide me right,<br /> +Tho' for my life I could not see't,<br /> +Just in that light.<br /> +<br /> +For where two highways ran before,<br /> +I saw a dozen tracks or more;<br /> +And which to take, I wasn't sure,<br /> +By either eye;<br /> +'Twas but a chance against a score,<br /> +And yet I'd try.<br /> +<br /> +I started on with divers tacks,<br /> +And strove to reconcile the tracks<br /> +Which darted round, like jumping jacks,<br /> +Before my gaze;<br /> +'Twould take a dozen crowd a cacks<br /> +Their course to trace.<br /> +<br /> +Had I big John's and Eddie's charts,<br /> +To tell me where the highway parts,<br /> +Reducing by their magic arts<br /> +Nineteen to two;<br /> +I would have from my heart of hearts<br /> +Poured blessings due.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span><br /> +Confusion worse confounded, gee!<br /> +On every track a horse I see,<br /> +And all alike it seems to me<br /> +As barley scones—<br /> +I vow, Pete Gagne's cavalry—<br /> +Proud, prancing roans!<br /> +<br /> +Their bones were rattling in the cold<br /> +Like vales of which Ezekiel told!<br /> +A few indeed did seem too old<br /> +To nibble corn;<br /> +The colt among them all was foaled<br /> +Ere "Smoke" was born.<br /> +<br /> +Ah! crippled, gaunt and wild-eyed steed,<br /> +Thy woes are great, your want is feed!<br /> +Reminds me of D. Bunker's breed<br /> +That gasps for breath;<br /> +Aye, one and all are built for speed—<br /> +To certain death!<br /> +<br /> +I asked the leader of the band,<br /> +If he could tell, upon which hand,<br /> +The mountain turnpike pierced the land<br /> +Around those parts;<br /> +I'd shipped a sea, I told him, and<br /> +Had lost my charts.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span><br /> +"The left!" he answered with a yell;<br /> +"Tis easy, sir, your course to tell;<br /> +And that will lead you down to—well,<br /> +To "Robert's road."<br /> +Then straight away on yonder hill<br /> +Is "Smoke's" abode.<br /> +<br /> +"The right hand road you must not take,<br /> +As that will lead to Moffat Lake,<br /> +Where Cookshire sportsmen saw "big snake"<br /> +Through Alden's glass.<br /> +And thots of serpents make me quake<br /> +From head to cass."<br /> +<br /> +I gave my guide a social wink,<br /> +And started on, is cha ro blink,<br /> +Till my exuberance, I think,<br /> +Broke into song:<br /> +I said "good evening" to the "Mink,"<br /> +And passed along.<br /> +<br /> +The air was keen, the night was bright,<br /> +And in the north that mystic light,<br /> +(In my exaggerated sight)<br /> +Was one to please;<br /> +The whole suggested yellow, white<br /> +Or greenish cheese!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span><br /> +I gained momentum down the ridge,<br /> +And jumped John Moggish's hump-backed bridge;<br /> +Then climbed the mountain, hedge by hedge,<br /> +Unto the crest.<br /> +And thought it there my privilege<br /> +To take a rest.<br /> +<br /> +I could not find the mountain store<br /> +Which Channel mentioned in his leor,<br /> +My vision's better than before,<br /> +I really think:<br /> +Aye, C—— accounts for one or more—<br /> +And he don't drink.<br /> +<br /> +But stores aside, I wandered on<br /> +To where the school house windows shone,<br /> +Altho' there seemed to me but one—<br /> +A dancing glare:<br /> +I thought the northern lights were on<br /> +The programme there.<br /> +<br /> +And just within, O "hully gee!"<br /> +Is that a single Christmas tree,<br /> +Or is my vision still aglee?<br /> +For lack of breath—<br /> +A moving forest do I see<br /> +As saw Macbeth?<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span><br /> +And better still the forest gleams<br /> +With all a youngster most esteems:<br /> +A greater crop, as groaning beams<br /> +Did there attest<br /> +Than Tupper saw in wildest dreams<br /> +Of wheat out West.<br /> +<br /> +And bachelors (might they be fewer)!<br /> +I thought I'd see you single, sure,<br /> +But there they sit, at least a score,<br /> +On benches stuck;<br /> +Each one a wilted, lone wall flower<br /> +Awaiting pluck.<br /> +<br /> +We pray you, O assultin Turk,<br /> +So noted for unholy work,<br /> +To send his devilship your clerk<br /> +Across the seas:<br /> +To drive our single men to kirk<br /> +With marriage fees.<br /> +<br /> +Or send Armenians not yet dead<br /> +And take our bachelors instead;<br /> +Should you then hanker for their head<br /> +Just plant their hide:<br /> +And thus avoid that hellish dread<br /> +Infanticide!<br /> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;"> +<img src="images/fig_005.jpg" width="376" height="600" alt="Another Finlay like your own, you'll never know." title="" /> +<span class="caption"><i>Another Finlay like your own, you'll never know.</i></span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<div class='poem'> +Behold! I've reason now to stare!<br /> +For are there not two Finlays there—<br /> +And only one on earth I swear—<br /> +Come off my hat!<br /> +A worthier to fill a chair<br /> +Has never sat.<br /> +<br /> +Red Mountain, thy neglect condone—<br /> +Within that "chair" your bard enthrone:<br /> +Instead of bread, don't give a stone<br /> +As others do—<br /> +Another Finlay like your own<br /> +You'll never know.<br /> +<br /> +Sweet singer! may your mother tongue,<br /> +Embellished by thy gift of song,<br /> +Be ever heard the clans among<br /> +While print is read—<br /> +May future bards thy notes prolong<br /> +When thou art dead.<br /> +<br /> +Thus on and on, while cycles roll,<br /> +May Gaelic—language of the soul—<br /> +Be heard in song from pole to pole,<br /> +From east to west,<br /> +Until the final tempests bowl<br /> +This earth to rest!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span><br /> +Concluding—I would humbly ask<br /> +All hypocrites to shun the task<br /> +Of shooting from behind a mask<br /> +Their fellow men—<br /> +And help us all to fling our flask<br /> +To Hinnom's glen!<br /> +<br /> +We've heard the loud, despairing moan<br /> +Of sinners, reaping what they've sown,<br /> +In midnight fields with thistles grown<br /> +Where devils glean.<br /> +Yet let the first to cast a stone<br /> +Himself be clean.<br /> +<br /> +No living mortal can invite<br /> +The gaze of creatures who delight<br /> +In showing spots upon the white<br /> +Which God hath gi'en.<br /> +Alas, alas, a little spite<br /> +Will find the stain.<br /> +<br /> +But who's to judge? The serpent's there,<br /> +In every breast that breathes the air,<br /> +Though some with skill and acting rare<br /> +His form conceal;<br /> +While others full to view must wear<br /> +The squirming eel!<br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> + +<p>Double quotation marks within double quotation marks were often used in this text.</p> + +<p>List of Illustrations, the frontispiece is the illustration for the line +following. Clicking on the word "Frontispiece" will take you to the illustration +while clicking on the page number will take you to the page referenced.</p> +<p><a href="#Page_9">Pages 9</a>-<a href="#Page_10">10</a>, Table of Contents, often the first line listed in the contents does +not match the first line of the actual poem. For example on <i>The Fenian Raid</i>, +the table of contents suggests it begins "From de countrie of de Eagle" when in +actuality, it begins "From de country of de Yankee." This anamoly was retained.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_10">Page 10</a>, THE HOLLERNZOLLERN'S PRAYER is listed in the text as "HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER Or +THE HOLLERIN' HOHENZOLLERIN"</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_44">Page 44</a>, the word "thot" was retained in the text as the transcriber couldn't ascertain +whether it was a mistake or meant as dialect.</p> + +<p><a href="#Page_106">Page 106</a>, the second to the last stanza of <i>The Lumberjack</i> was indented +differently than the rest of the poem. It was arranged to match the rest. The orignal looked like</p> + +<div class='poem'> +O, the lumberjack is loyal<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And he'll surely see to it,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In the grind against the Kaiser</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That each axe will "do its bit";</span><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY TRENCH AND TRAIL IN SONG AND STORY***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 37510-h.txt or 37510-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/5/1/37510">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/5/1/37510</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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McKay + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: By Trench and Trail in Song and Story + + +Author: Angus MacKay + + + +Release Date: September 22, 2011 [eBook #37510] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY TRENCH AND TRAIL IN SONG AND +STORY*** + + +E-text prepared by Linda Cantoni, Bryan Ness, Emmy, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images +generously made available by Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 37510-h.htm or 37510-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37510/37510-h/37510-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37510/37510-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/bytrenchtrailins00mackuoft + + + + + +[Illustration] + + +BY TRENCH AND TRAIL IN SONG AND STORY + +by + +ANGUS MACKAY (Oscar Dhu) + +Author of +"Donald Morrison--The Canadian Outlaw" +"A Tale of the Pioneers" +"Poems of a Politician" +"Pioneer Sketches" +Etc., Etc. + +Illustrated + + + + + + + +Mackay Printing & Publishing Co. +Seattle and Vancouver +1918 + +Copyright 1918 by +Angus MacKay + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +A number of the songs in this collection have been heard by campfire and +trail from the camps of British Columbia to the lumber camps of Maine. +Several of the songs have been fired at the Huns "somewhere in France," +no doubt with deadly effect. And also at the Turks on the long long hike +to Bagdad and beyond. + +And it is not impossible that some of my countrymen are now warbling +snatches of my humble verse to the accompaniment of bagpipes on the +streets of the New Jerusalem! Many of the verses have appeared from time +to time in leading publications from Vancouver, B. C., to the New +England States and Eastern Canada; while others appear in print here for +the first time. + +From all parts of the land I have received letters at various times +asking for extra copies of some particular song in my humble collection, +which I was not in a position to supply at the time. + +I therefore decided to publish some of the songs for which a demand had +been expressed, and in so doing offer to the reading public in +extenuation of my offense the plea that in a manner this humble volume +is being published by request. + +I offer no apology for my "dialect" songs as they have already received +the approval of music lovers whose judgment is beyond criticism. + +For the errors which must inevitably creep into the work of a +non-college-bred lumberjack, I crave the indulgence of all highbrows who +may resent my inability to comb the classics for copy to please them. +All the merit I can claim is the ability to rhyme a limerick or sing a +"come-all-ye" in a manner perhaps not unpleasing to my friends. + +The lumberjacks will understand me, I am sure, and will appreciate my +humble efforts to entertain them. + +As for the genial highbrow, should he deem me an interloper in the realm +of letters and imagine that my wild, uncultured notes are destroying the +harmony of his supersensitive soul, I shall "lope" back to the tall +timber again and seek sympathy and appreciation among the lumberjacks of +the forest primeval, where, amid the wild surroundings and the crooning +of the trees, there is health for mind and body borne on every passing +breeze. Yes, there's something strangely healing in the magic of the +myrrh, in the odor of the cedar and the fragrance of the fir. + +There the hardy lumberjack is the undisputed lord of the lowlands and +chief of the highlands, and at the present time no soldier in the +trenches or sailor on the rolling deep has a more arduous task to +perform or a more important duty to discharge than he. + +Toil on, ye Titans of the tall timbers; steadfast soldiers of the saw, +and able allies of the axe. Carry on till the stately trees which +constitute the glory of the West are converted into ships and planes in +countless thousands, to win the great war for freedom and to make the +world safe for democracy--and lumberjacks! + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + Frontispiece + + "Where the tall, majestic pine tree branches wave" 124 + + "Christmas in Quebec" 14 + + "Gagne's Cavalry" 52 + + "Sergeant-Major Larry" 76 + + "I am now one lumberjack" 110 + + "Another Findlay like your own" 141 + + _Illustrations by + Lieutenant William R. McKay + with 161st U.S.A. in France_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + DESTINY 11 + There's a grand, grand view unfolding. + + THE SONS OF OUR MOTHERS 12 + In the Ramah's of our day. + + CHRISTMAS IN QUEBEC 15 + I got notice sometam lately. + + THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE 22 + It is such a fad at present. + + THE SULTAN AT POTSDAM 27 + Mohammed, Dammed gift of God, + + JOHN LABONNE'S DREAM 41 + All las' night I was me dreaming, + + THE DERELICT 44 + I will write a short sketch of a + free-hearted wretch. + + GAGNE'S CAVALRY 49 + Ma Rosie write to me somet'ing, + + THE GRIPPE 54 + To see us now deceivers. + + TRUDEL'S TRAVELS 58 + Said Joe, I mus' go w'ere de snow + she don' blow, + + THE END OF THE TRAIL 71 + I was summoned in the gloaming, + + HOMESICK 75 + I am tire' now for roam Rosemarie, + + THE GALLANT 58TH 77 + O come all ye loyal volunteers, + + THE FENIAN RAID 82 + From de country of de Eagle, + + A LEAP YEAR PARTY 87 + The night before last Hallowe'en, + + THE HOLLERNZOLLERN'S PRAYER 91 + Dear Gott, der weight of "right divine," + + ALASKA BOUNDARY LINE 95 + Now that little Venezuela, + + THE GUARD OF LAFAYETTE 99 + Ma Rosie say to me today, + + THE LUMBERJACK 103 + We have songs on many topics, + + THE BOOK AGENT 107 + The sun rose in beauty, + + JEAN LABONNE 111 + I am now one lumberjack, + + CANADIANS, GUARD YOUR OWN 113 + "On feet of clay," false prophets say, + + GUARD THE GAELIC 116 + Is it not our bounden right? + + THE AMERICAN EAGLE 120 + Lofty is thy habitation, + + DONALD McLEOD 123 + The sun hath set and leaves the day, + + OVER THE TOP 127 + A lusty lad from Lewis, + + THE ALKALI LAND 130 + I left my old home and my friends in + the East, + + A CHRISTMAS DREAM 135 + One Christmas night I sallied forth, + + + + +DESTINY + + + There's a grand, grand view unfolding + And it pictures our future goal: + There's a strong, strong army moulding + Our land into one great whole; + There's a world-wide movement holding + Firm the lines of our destiny: + And 'twill never cease + Till the earth finds peace + In the arms of Democracy! + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE SONS OF OUR MOTHERS + + + In the Ramah's of our day + Mothers grieve their hearts away, + Mourning comfortless as Rachel did of yore; + Hoping day by day to learn + Of their absent boy's return + And to hear his well-known footsteps at the door. + The lilies are blooming in far-away France-- + Bloom O bloom! + The cannons are roaring retreat and advance-- + Boom, O boom! + The hell of their fire is falling like rain, + And our soldiers before it are falling like grain, + While the voices of loved ones are calling in vain-- + Home, sweet home! + + Dear Canadians who fell, + Fighting nobly fighting well, + May the angels guard thy rest in lonely graves; + We'll remember "ridge" and "hill" + And rejoice in knowing, still, + That the dear old flag you died for rules the waves. + The wild birds are lilting their lay on the breeze, + Soft and low: + As they croon to their nestlings asway in the trees, + To and fro-- + The young of the robin will flit down the glen + And return in the spring to the dwellings of men, + But the sons of our mothers return not again-- + No, ah no! + + And the absent from the fold? + What of those, the gay, the bold? + Fighting bravely, dying nobly, to the fore. + Shall we not avenge the slain? + Shall our mothers weep in vain? + Calling, calling for the boys who come no more. + Dear soldier boys dead in the trenches of war, + Work well done! + Your service for country there's nothing can mar, + Fame well won! + They fought for the right in a cause that will win-- + They died in a fight that they did not begin-- + And you'll pay the last groat when we enter Berlin. + Hun, oh Hun! + +[Illustration: Christmas in Quebec.] + + + + +CHRISTMAS IN QUEBEC. + + + This sketch is truer of the Quebec of last century + than that of today. I am glad to hear that whisky + blanc does not "cut the figure" in French festivities + now that it did twenty years ago; and no one will + rejoice more than Oscar Dhu to see the demon rum + utterly destroyed in Canada ere many moons. + + Yes, I sincerely hope that the day will soon dawn when + the baneful influence of both De Kuyper and de Kaiser + will be forever banished from my dear native province, + queenly Quebec! + + I got notice some tam lately + Wrote in Yankee dialec', + Ask me Joe how I spen' Chris'mas + On de 10 range of Kebec; + + But ba gosh I don' wrote nottings + Till de New Year pass along. + Chris'mas tam I dance an' fiddle, + Eat an' drink an' sing some song! + + Yes ma frien' dis ol' man's happy, + Jus' lak' leetle lamb in May! + Ev'ry year I grow lak young one, + W'en it come to Chris'mas day! + + Hip ho-orah! I feel lak dancin', + Play for Joe an' kip good tam, + I'm mos' happy man in Weedon, + On his shanty jus' de sam'. + + Come Zavier and clear de room off, + An' one dance to you I'll show, + Dat I learn on Lampton Corners + More as t'irty year ago. + + It's call cris-cross two-step, quick step, + Up an' down de center, too; + Right an' lef' and swing you' pardner, + Till de tack fly out her shoe! + + Come I'll show you how to do it, + Tak' de one you love de bes', + Den you swing it ro'nd lak swirlwind + Or dat slyclone in de Wes'. + + Whoop up gee' jus wash ma dances + An' hole Paul will kip good tam, + On dis side de Lac St. Francis + I can skung dem all de sam'. + + T'ro' dat stool on top de corner, + Push dat cradle from de room, + Joe hee's got dis floor for shak' down + An' he'll swip it lak de broom. + + Jomp up Jacque! and strak dat ceilin' + Till de dus' fall on you' head-- + Come Lucinda! stop dat squealin' + Or we'll sen' you off to bed. + + Dis is Chris'mas an' one good one-- + Chris'mas come but once a year; + Ope dat stove an' t'row some hood on, + An' we'll have one, two, t'ree cheer! + + Rig a gig a gig jus' wash ma moccasin + An' hole Paul you kip good tam! + Pass dat jug aro'nd de grog-is-in, + An we'll have w'at Scotch call "dram." + + Pass it ro'nd de room ma Rosie + An' be sure you fill de glass; + Ma Joe sen' me twenty dollair + Jus' las' wick from Lowhell, Mass. + + Ev'ry year he sen' me monay + And he sen' some ol' clothes too-- + But dem duty charge me custom + Jus' de same lak it was new! + + Shoo! dat dance has mak' me tire-- + Rosie pass de pipe of clay-- + Plenty more rat here in Weedon, + We're Pete Tanguay give it 'way. + + Here's tobac dat's raise in Compton, + Tak' it too an' pass it ro'nd-- + Plentay more way do'n at Lampton-- + Jus' for twenty cent one po'nd. + + Smoke ma frien' an' take it heasy, + Till de fiddler res' his bow-- + Smudge dis room till it grow hazy, + Den we'll have one nodder go! + + Rig-a-gig-gig jus' wash ma feet go, + Put some movemen' in dat tune; + If a man is want for beat Joe-- + Mus' get up before its noon! + + Oh ba gosh! de hole man's happy! + Wish you all feel sam' lak me. + Canada's de place spen' Chris'mas + Up at Weedon 'mong de tree! + + I feel bad for Wilfrid Laurier, + An' for all de beeg Frenchman, + Who can nevair know henjoymen' + In dis worl' de sam's I can. + + Troub' is all he gets for breakfas', + An' for dinnair too I guess-- + Charlie Tupper's eat for supper-- + An' hee's awful hard diges'! + + Den de nightmare kick lak blazes, + W'en a leetle sleep dey foun'-- + I can sleep me in dis shanty + Twice as fas' an' twice as soun'. + + I don' henvey any rich man, + He can tak' ma house an' lan', + But he can't tak' ma henjoymen' + Lak de res' w'en hee's deman'. + + Hee's live in one gran' beeg cassil-- + All light up wit' 'letric lamp-- + I am Joseph in dis shanty, + An' my shanty's in de swamp; + + But ba gosh I'm far more happies + Den beeg man in house of stone-- + Byemby he'll be lak Joseph-- + Six feet land is all he'll own! + + Come here Pierre ma troat's grow wheezy, + Pass de glassware roun' for change-- + Wash ma Rosie, a'nt she daisy? + She's de bes' cook on de range. + + Ev'ry year w'en it come Chris'mas, + Rosie geeve me lots to heat-- + Pie an' stoughnut--cake an' cookie-- + Bun an' two t'ree kin' of meat. + + Ev'ryt'ing she's good for cook it,-- + An' de pork she's good for fry, + She can flip dat bockwheat pancake + Lak de twinkle of you' eye! + + Yes ba gosh! ma wife hee's good wan, + Nevair scold me w'en I'm sick: + An' she raise it twenty young wan + Nevair learn dat "Yankee trick"! + + Plenty vote to swing de 'lection-- + Twenty-two or twenty-three; + But I'm ask for no Protection + For my Infant Industry! + + Dat's de cry I like, "all ready"! + Sopper's on de tab' at las'-- + Girl an' boy fall in ma hearty-- + Hungry fom de midnight Mass. + + Come Joseph an' bring Louiser,-- + Don' be squeeze her all night long-- + Joe, I know is lak hee's fadder-- + Jus' de sam' w'en I was young! + + Now I'll pass de jug for luck, me, + Drink de he'lt' of frien' an' foe-- + Plenty more at Dudswell Junction, + Ma frien' Gauthier tole me so. + + Dis is firs' class liquidation, + Jus' one glass will pay de tax; + Two or tree will lif' de mortgage-- + All de worl' is mine wit' six! + + What's de use for feel downhearted? + Plenty life in barley juice; + Dat's w'at mak' dis ol' man happy-- + But some tam it raise de duce. + + Eat an' drink an' feel contentmen', + 'Till de holiday pass by; + Den ol' Joe mus' tackle snow + An' chop de hood an' hew de tie. + + I got credit from de storekeep-- + Bean an' pork an' pea an' flour, + An' I promise pay in cordhood-- + An' its tak' me many hour. + + Scoonkin coat I got from Tanguay, + For to tak' me warm to church, + An' he tole me pay heem sometam', + W'en I haul de spruce an' birch. + + Plenty work for Joe in winter-- + Brak de road an' haul de hood, + But hole Joe hee's nevair worry-- + Not so long hees he'lt' is good. + + Dis is holiday at presen', + I won't cut me one dem stick + 'Till I have ma Chris'mas hoorah, + An' it always las' a wick! + + Den I'll say good bye to ol' year + An' w'en New Year come on deck, + I'll tole Yankee how ol' Joseph + Spen' his Chris'mas on Kebec. + + Rig-a-gig-a-gig, jus' wash me moccasin, + An' ol' Paul will kip good tam; + Pass de jug aro'n' de grog is in + An' we'll have w'at Scotch call "dram." + + + + +"THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE." + + + The seeming hostile spirit towards the United States + pervading some of the sketches in this volume is more + apparent than real, as they were introduced in the + spirit of fun to accentuate the oddities of certain + characters, and not to disparage our neighbor; for + notwithstanding petty quarrels and misunderstandings + we always loved our great big, bluff brother to the + South. + + We always maintained that closer relationship with our + kindred people was our manifest destiny and that + nothing could happen that would keep us permanently + apart. According to this song, written many years ago, + we have been "interwooing" and "intermarrying" for a + long time. We have been flocking to their cities and + they have been flocking to our farms, and naturally + the ties between us have been growing stronger with + the years. + + Consequently when the present great war engulfed the + world in a holocaust of blood, kindred cried to + kindred and the resulting alliance was both natural + and logical. + + Time alone can prove the value of the services + rendered the Allied cause in this great war by British + Americans and Americanadians residing in the United + States. + + The Germans and pro-Germans of this country thot in + their overweening pride with overbearing Kultur to + obtain a greater "pull" with Uncle Sam than we + possessed. By the most cunning propaganda ever known + they endeavored to widen the breach between brother + Jonathan and John Bull, but failed miserably. While + they "hoched" for the "fatherland" till the cows came + home, we "coached" for the "motherland" till the + children came home! + + Kultur may be a powerful persuader but the call of the + blood is more powerful still, and when the old lion + roared his appeal the sound went round the world, and + the whelps, true to their breed, gathered from all + corners of the earth, not into alien jungles, but + home! The fur is now flying and blood is flowing, and + when the combatants shall have emerged from the great + conflict the two powerful branches of the + English-speaking peoples will be bound together in + ties of friendship stronger than ever before, and by + thunder they will not be under! + + +THE CLEVELAND MESSAGE + +or + +HOW CANADA AND THE U. S. MAY BECOME ONE. + + It is such a fad at present + For each poet effervescent, + To assail the "cross" or "crescent" + And the "Cleveland message" grim; + That we pondered for a minute + Thinking we would not be "in it" + If we did not aid some Linnet + With a little of our din. + + Now we're not at'all unwilling + To receive a course of "drilling" + If successful in dispelling + Just a little of the mist + Which is hanging thickly over + Our detractor, brother Grover, + And that rank sedition mover, + Called the jingo journalist. + + There are men among you moving + Who're ostensibly peace loving, + While their conduct's always proving + The reverse to be their toast; + They eternally are blowing + Like a game cock, bent on showing + By his loud defiant crowing + That he's there to rule the roost! + + Tho' you send a warlike "message" + Do not punctuate its passage + Crying "cut 'em into sassage, + Now beware, you crippled cuss": + All such ravings out of season + Should be classified as treason, + Guard your tongues and use your reason + In considering the "fuss." + + If again your mind should rove + Around the field of Carnage Grover, + We would have you think it over + In the light of common sense; + Ponder well the pain and labor + It would cause to quell your neighbor; + And be sure you hide your saber + 'Ere you venture through our fence. + + Why rely on jingo blowing + If you're bent upon subduing + Brave Canadians who've been growing + Since they met Montgomery? + Drop your systematic hounding, + And your epithets loud sounding + For we've pipers here abounding + Who could blow you out to sea! + + If you saw bold piper Ronald + Of the warlike Clan Macdonald, + And the way in which he pommelled + O'er a hundred of your ranks; + You would soon be after wishing + You had always kept a-fishing + Right at home, instead of swishing + Warlines over Britain's banks! + + And it seems to us so very + Queer that Highlanders who quarry + Monumental stones at Barre, + Did not scare away your frowns: + Had they started with their hammers + Down among your city bummers, + It would take you many summers + To repopulate your towns. + + Yea, at prospects of a battle + From old Bangor to Seattle + Each Canadian would skedaddle + To defend his home and kin; + And from Picton to Vancouver + We would welcome each one over; + Thus united, brother Grover, + Would you have a chance to win? + + Then relinquish Yankee dodges, + We would warn you to be cautious; + Silence rabid Cabot Lodges + And your jingo journalists. + Friendship's thread already slender + Needs a sapient defender-- + As the lion's tail is tender + From so many ruthless twists! + + We have often heard it stated + When by jingoists berated, + That the people here were fated + To be "taken in by Sam." + But believe us, brother Grover, + Coming ages will discover + That you cannot get us over + In that manner by a d----! + + There's another way that's better + Than coercion and the fetter, + And we'll tell you in this letter + How to circumvent the end: + Cultivate a better feeling + For your neighbor in your dealing-- + As you'll never see us kneeling + For the favors you can lend. + + Let events their course pursuing + Glide along as they've been doing-- + Let our people interwooing-- + Intermarry--buy and sell; + Let your friendly salutation, + Be extended to this nation, + Let the law of gravitation + Do the rest and all is well! + + You have often sold a daughter + To some dude across the water, + While the title high(?) which bought her + You so seemingly ignore; + Why not send us a cotillion + Of those girls who own a million + For our hardy northern gillian + On the old Canadian shore? + + You may think this would not do, but + We can tell you that your "blue blood" + Isn't "in it" with the true blood + Of our bracing Northern clime-- + Better far to take their chances + With Xavier at Lac St. Francis + Than to purchase the advances + Of coin hunters of our time! + + + + +THE SULTAN AT THE KAISER'S KOURT + +Enter SECOND SONS + + + Mohammed Dammed, gift of God! + The Sultan's second son, + Enjoys a pilgrimage abroad + With Eitel Fritz the Hun. + + These second sons, of sons of guns, + Are sure some friendly foes; + But to what length their friendship runs + Jehovah only knows. + + Just now the Sultan, also, dines + At Williams' kultured kourt, + And downs the Kaiser's doctored wines + While Kaiser downs his porte. + + One day young Dammed said to Fritz: + "Who started this fool row? + Whoever did was void of wits, + As you must know by now." + + Said Eitel, "Though I'm from Missour, + Some say it was my Dad; + But as they're going to Bag-dad sure, + He'll wish he never had." + + Said Dammed, "If they bag your Dad + They'll bag my Daddy sure, + And make him wish he never had + Come here to seek a cure. + + "Your father promised mine to win + From Cork to Timbuctoo; + If we would throw our Turkey in + Your bloody Pots-dam brew! + + "Besides, he promised on demand + Star-eyed Parisian pearls! + Great hunks of Greece, Manhattan and + A thousand chorus girls! + + "He also swore by every beard + The prophets ever tore, + That great Mahomet had appeared + Before his chamber door. + + "And hurled his mantle--so revered-- + The blooming transom o'er; + And hence my foolish father feared + The awful robe he wore!" + + Fritz gazed upon the rolling Rhine + With bleary, beery eyes, + And as he sips his foaming stein, + To Dammed thus replies: + + "Thy father was a howling mutt + Thus to believe my sire; + For 'scraps of paper' never cut + Much ice with any liar. + + "That he has promised you too much + Cannot be well denied; + For many things will 'beat the Dutch,' + I find since Hannah died. + + "My dad and 'first born' started out, + To eat the world in gobs, + But now they're down to spuds and krout, + And what the army robs. + + "I have no patience with the bunch + That failed to win from France, + The crown prince plainly lacks the punch-- + Why not give me a chance! + + "A million soldiers good and true + Went down to death for him, + And chances still of 'breaking thru,' + Are daily growing slim. + + "I love him not, nor yet his clique, + Who deem themselves so smart: + I'd like to serve them all a kick + Where their Prince Alberts part. + + "To whip the French, they'll have to sail + Thru blood to gay Paree-- + Here's hoping Poilus will not fail + To make crown prince of me! + + "For O, I'd love to have a peep + Into that promised land!" + Thus saying Eitel fell asleep-- + And snored to beat the band! + + And while Eitel was dreaming, + Of something or other, + The son of the Sultan + Wrote home to his mother. + + "On Linden when the sun was low," + The Sultan's second wrote. + These mild impressions of the foe, + That has his father's goat: + + "Dear ma, according to my pledge, + I write these lines to thee, + While sitting on the ragged edge + In dear old Germany. + + "I'm at the court of last resort, + Our royal Ali Bill's: + And found my father at the port + Forgetting all his ills. + + "Compared with livers over here + Dad's health is fairly good, + And sure, that boy was full of cheer, + On 'burning deck' that stood. + + "Great doctor Kaiser, best of men! + To cure dad's mal-a-dy; + Injects his Kultur now and then + In dad's anatomy. + + "This Kultur is a German germ + That germinates a juice, + Which in its turn creates a worm + That generates the duce! + + "I'm not well up on wormy laws, + Nor how this Kultur's spread, + I only know its use will cause + A swelling of the head! + + "I think we'll not prolong our stay, + There are no harems here; + The women have no time for play, + The men no time for cheer. + + "They's raising crops, but none to sell, + As few would want their goods: + The men are busy raising hell-- + The women raising spuds! + + "The spuds are raising women's sons-- + The sons all fight for Bill, + And thus it runs that all the Huns + Are simply raising hell! + + "I heard a 'concert of the Powers' + One stormy night of late, + And there, of course, the joy was ours + To hear the 'Hymn of Hate.' + + "It seems to be the only song + That all the boches know, + And slips with ease from every tongue + Where 'Uber alles' grow. + + "They sang the 'Hymn' with awful vim, + And turning round our way, + They looked at me and smiled at 'him,' + As much as if to say, + + "'There's not a Turk can beat that work, + 'Twas made in Germany!'-- + 'That may be so, but by my dirk, + I think the Turk will try!' + + "Yea classed with watchdogs of the Rhine, + And dastard deeds they've done, + Our dad, I swear, doth really shine + A saintly paragon! + + "He felt ashamed that any race, + Of earth or Hell below, + Could so outshine him to his face-- + In hatred of a foe! + + * * * * * + + "I pity the Armenian + When dad gets back to work again; + For he has tortures now in store + Eclipsing all he knew before!" + + +Enter the Clown Prince. + + "The next upon the program was + The Kaiser's eldest son, + Who sang to thunders of apeplause + 'Der land vare ve ver-dun'! + + "And as his tears on Brussels flow, + His voice pathetic grew, + While singing solemnly and low + 'I see my Waterloo! + + "'I'm sick and sore and sorry and + I'm licked and lonely, too: + Vile odders see der Vaterland + I see mine "Vaterloo"! Boo-hoo!' + + "Dear mother it was sad I claim + To hear him blubber so; + The blooming boob is not to blame + For what he doesn't know. + + "From infancy they taught the kid + To bank on 'right's divine'; + And that no matter what he did + The Lord was with his 'Line.' + + "And so, when shot and shell and trench, + And 'Me und Gott' und Co. + Had failed to crush the hated French, + It queered his status quo! + + "But Kaiser Bill was on the job, + And said 'it's getting late;' + We'll dry the tear and swab the sob + And sing the 'Hymn of Hate.' + + And so they sang the 'hymn' again + To stimulate the prince: + And encored with that sad refrain + 'The days of auld lang since.' + + "Then Kaiser rising with a spring + Said, Gentlemen a-hem-- + Our friend, the Sultan, now will sing + The 'New Jerusalem'"! + + "'And after that, excuse the joke, + He'll sing that song of caste, + The "Turkey in the Straw, that broke + The Camel's back at last."' + + "The Kaiser's kounsel knocked the spots + Off father's self command, + For he had such unholy thots, + Anent the Holy Land. + + "But he was game as old McBeth, + Resolved to do or die; + The odor of his very breath + Was 'comin' thru the rye': + + "'My breath is hot enough to stew, + My blood is hot within + From being chased like Moses thru + The "Wilderness of Sin." + + "'They're chasing me across the sand-- + Don't mention Waterloo!-- + From Dan unto Beersheba and + A little further, too. + + "'The sand is hot along the trail, + Jerusalem how hot--! + And as I hear those bagpipes wail, + I murmur, Oh great Scot! + + "'Behind each chanter blows a Gael, + Loud, strong and piping hot; + And those en-chanters never fail + To make me, Turkey, trot! + + "And woe betide deluded ones + Who meet this kilted race, + And deem the grim denuded ones + But females out of place! + + "Engage them in a bayonet charge + And dupes will quickly find, + Those skirts are worn to camouflage + The dynamite behind! + + "O demons of the fighting line, + Whose limits are the earth; + The empire great in which you shine + Doth bless thy place of birth. + + "Ubiquitous, pugnacious Scot, + You've nobly done your share; + For, ever where the fighting's hot, + The Tartan flutters there! + + "Yea Turkey Trot and Tanko tune! + Those dances are the style, + We hop to their compelling rune + From Baltic to the Nile.' + + "The Kaiser didn't quite approve + The course the Sultan chose, + And deemed it time that he should move + The Turkish mouth to close. + + "'He's taken too much Scotch in tow + Their praises thus to sing: + The next we know he'll queer the show + And dance the Highland Fling!' + + "And as they led the Turk to bed, + He said the deal was raw-- + Yes raw and red, 'pipe up,' he said + With 'Turkey in the Straw!' + + "Here Sheik-Ul-Islam bang arose + And cried it wasn't fair, + To stem the golden flood that flows + From Allah's chosen heir. + + "'Mine is the will,' said Kaiser Bill, + 'That rules the world today; + No kings or khans or Gods or clans + Can these my words gainsay.' + + "And then to prove that he was king + And Ruler over all, + He ordered Hindenburg to sing! + Or rather lead the bawl. + + "Then Hindenburg mid many raus + Essayed a clever line; + The song he sang with fervor was, + 'Fair Byng-in on the Rhine.' + + "The song a sad one in its day, + Brought some to verge of tears: + But when they heard Von Hinden bray + The place was near all jeers! + + "'You're off your line,' the singers laugh, + Von Hindenburg said 'Nay, + I'm only wobbling on the staff, + My bass is weak today.' + + "'Your vocal chords are out of joint, + Your lines are running wrong, + Therefore I think I will appoint + Myself to sing a song.' + + "So saying, Kaiser Bill arose + And clearing out his throat, + Assumed that well known lordly pose! + And sang without a note. + + "The music with me still abides, + My ears with discord ring: + Dear mother you would split your sides, + To hear the Kaiser sing. + + "O, why the agony prolong? + This was the burden of his song: + + "'On der shore of Italy + Mine Spag-etta vaits for me, + I am longing so for thee + Mine dear Venus by der sea. + + "'Und anodder maiden fair, + She vos vaiting 'over there,' + + "Und I'll take mine supmarine, + Und mine super-air-machine, + Und 'Columbia der Chem of der Ocean' + Vill soon be mine own Kaiserine!'" + + Here Eitel woke and poked my ribs, + And whispered in my ear, + "The words to suit his royal nibs + Would thusly run, I fear." + + "Fair Saint Helena is the maid, + That calls thee to her side-- + She is lonely, I'm afraid, + Since her former war-lord died!" + + 'Twas at this point a warning dire + Came Hertling thru the hall, + And danced in words of lurid fire + Upon the gilded wall. + + And "Mene, Mene," once again + A tyrant's eyes behold, + The writing on the wall was plain + As in the days of old. + + And gazing on that fiery scroll + The guilty Kaiser quakes-- + May God have mercy on his soul + When Germany awakes! + + + + +JOHN LABONNE'S DREAM + +Or + +A SAD AWAKENING + +A Song of the Trenches + + + All las' night I was me dreamin', + Dreamin' where de cannon's roar, + An' my spirit, so it's seemin', + Wend its flight to home once more. + Dare I heard de church bells ringin' + An' de robin red breas' singin', + Back to me de tam was bringin' + W'en I part wit' Rosemarie. + + Rosemarie! De bells are ringin', oh how sweet de melodie! + Rosemarie! De robin's singin', an' it's always callin' me! + + It was springtam an' all nature + Seem to join de robin's song, + All de sheep an' cattle feel it, + For de winter was so long. + O, it was one joyful meetin', + Ev'ry creature give me greetin', + An' ma heart tattoo was beatin' + W'en I t'ink of Rosemarie. + + Rosemarie, ma heart is beatin', O how sweet dat pain can be! + Rosemarie, it kips repeatin', an' each beat is true to thee. + + Springtam creep along de meadow, + Springtam whisper on de hill; + W'ere de sunshine chase de shadow + Ro'nd ma home at St. Camille. + Dare it stood, ma well known dwellin', + Dat I love beyond de tellin', + And ma heart in me was swellin' + W'en I see ma Rosemarie. + + Rosemarie, my heart is swellin', and it's all for love of thee! + Rosemarie, it kips on tellin' dat you're all de worl' to me! + + Joyfully she come to meet me, + Wit' de love light in her eye; + Smilin' tru' de tears she greet me-- + Nevaire more to say good bye. + W'en I see dem tear drop fallin', + Jus' lak dew of early mornin', + Hangel voices seem lak callin', + Callin' Joe to Rosemarie! + + Rosemarie, de angels' callin', O how sweet dat soun' to me! + Rosemarie, you' tear drops fallin' coax ma heart across de sea! + + Paradise den open to me, + As she whisper, "Welcome home." + To my arms her form I drew me-- + Den, Sapre! I wake, an' boom! + Roar of gun for church-bell ringin', + Howl of Hun for robins' singin'-- + Loving arms no more are clingin': + War is hell, sweet Rosemarie! + + + Chorus + + Rosemarie, de bells are ringin', + O, how sweet dat melodie! + Rosemarie! de robins' singin' + An' it's always callin' me! + + + + +THE DERELICT + +(When Seattle Was Wide Open.) + + + I will write a short sketch + Of that free hearted wretch + Whom all fakirs delight to espy. + He is seen every day + Just below Yesler Way, + Either "full" or distressingly "dry". + + He alights from the train, + Or a boat from the main, + With intentions both honest and clear. + But the weak-minded wight, + Led astray before night, + Is filled full of doped whiskey and beer. + + How alluring and bright + Is each glittering light, + As he joyfully watches the throng; + And his spirits are gay + As a bird's are in May, + And as gayly conducive to song. + + How seductive the speech + In which sirens beseech + Him to share the delights of their spree. + Ev'ry man in the set + Is "hail fellow well met", + And each woman delightfully free! + + There's a wink from the "traps", + And a meal with the Japs, + And a shuffle of cards as they go. + There's a trip to the play, + A few "smiles" by the way, + And a box by themselves at the show. + + O how slyly they wink + As they sip at their drink, + And maliciously help him to his; + And he drinks it, alas! + 'Though the foam on the glass + Floats around with a death-dealing fizz. + + Thus the night passes by + Till the victimized "guy" + Is sufficiently "doped" to "go through"; + And the stupefied lout, + When he's finally out, + Will possess but a nickel or two. + + Wholly drunk, and half blind, + With confusion of mind, + And to rum-selling vultures a prey, + He is found at the "Mug"-- + Takes a ride to the jug, + And there slumbers his potions away. + + Coming out the next morn, + Sober, sick and forlorn, + To a world that has quickly grown cold! + A poor outcast he roams + While in sumptuous homes + Whilom friends(?) are enjoying his gold. + + Where is now the glib friend + Of his bounty to lend + The poor devil the price of a plate? + He has vanished like mist + Of the morning, sun-kissed-- + And the victim is left to his fate. + + Not a wink from a lass, + Nor a clink from a glass, + With "your health", as it's borne to the lips; + Not a sign from a trap, + Not a bite from a Jap-- + All his sunshine has suffered eclipse! + + Not a kindly "invite" + From the friends of the night, + To "step in and have something on me." + Not a drop from the fakes + Just to steady the shakes, + And to "knock" the effects of the spree. + + As he wanders the street + Not one friend does he meet, + Not a soul that will greet him today; + "Broke" and hungry--alone, + With a heartrending moan, + He must totter along to the bay. + + O, the groans which now surge + With the tones of a dirge + From that soul so late given to song, + And how scenes long since fled + Like a wail from the dead, + Rise to hasten his footsteps along. + + Yea, dim memories rush + To his mind, and a flush + Of deep shame drives all pallor away, + As he thinks of the East + And the home he has lost + By the life that leads on to the bay. + + "Robbed and wronged all around," + Is the sob of the sound, + But no mortal comes forward to save; + So with mutterings of wrath + He goes down to his death + Through the green, clammy depths of the waves. + + Hark the tones of despair + Which arise on the air + From the shades of the low moaning bay; + They will float through the years + And encircle the spheres, + And be heard at the great Judgment Day. + + Soon a poor, bloated form, + Tossed about by the storm, + Floating 'round on the crest of each wave, + With seaweed for a shroud, + Is beheld by the crowd, + And a failure is borne to his grave. + + 'Tis a jump from the train + And a trip up on [A]Main, + And a sip with a friend (?) on the way. + Just a step to the "Mug", + And a ride to the "jug"-- + Then a leap to his death in the bay. + + But the Lord from his seat + Looketh down on each street, + Where such hell-born inventions are on, + And with infinite wrath + He will sweep on their path-- + And they'll reap on that day what they've sown. + + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote A: Main Street, Seattle.] + + + + +GAGNE'S CAVALRY + +or + +THE CANADIAN HABITANTS' ANSWER + +to + +THE FAMOUS "CLEVELAND MESSAGE." + + + My Rosie read to me somet'ing, + In pepper week ago. + She say, "De States he want to fight + On Canada and Joe; + An' dat de Yankee Presidon, + He write to Johnnie Bull, + An' tole him kip his nose at home, + Or it would get one pull." + + An' two three Yankee Senator, + He mak' one Yankee speech, + An' t'ink dat all de Canaya + Will tremble in his breech-- + He say to Honcle Sam, "Go up, + An' lick de hole dem crew-- + Go, tak' Quebec an' Hottawa, + An' Lac Megantic too." + + I jomp on top ma moccasin, + An' dance aroun' de floor; + I grine ma teet', I pull ma hair, + An' den I jomp some more; + I say, "hurrah for Canada!" + So loud as I can't yell, + Till Rosie say, "Ba gosh, hole man! + You're crazy I can tell." + + "Oh I'm not crazy, Rosie, + I am only patriot-- + Dat mean a man who never want + His country go to pot-- + Yes, I'm 'hole man,' but don't you fret, + I'm not yet invalid, + I'm good for fight on any war + As ten men when she's dead. + + "I can't fight? Me? Ba gosh you hask + Ma honcle Polyeaux; + He used to fight lak' tiger + On de war of Papineau; + You know I'm just the sam' lak' him, + I'll do what he can done; + An' I can fight lak' tiger, too, + Dat Yankee son-of-gun." + + Ma Rosie say: "You crack hole man, + Such tom fool speech to mak', + I t'ink you are most crazy man + Dat live on top de lac-- + Your boy is in de State, you know, + An' work in Yankee mill, + An' w'at you do he lose his job, + His bread an' greenback bill?" + + "Baa, you mak' mistak', dear Rosie, + If you t'ink we starve to dead; + If we can't get de Yankee work, + His brown bean an' his bread, + Grease pie, hot doughnut--biscuit, + Is good t'ing for mak' a dude; + But we got somet'ing better here + Den Yankee 'speptic food." + + +Chorus: + + Ma peasoup am bully, boys, + An' buckwheat is good, + You nevair get one better t'ing + To work upon de hood; + W'en it get hold de handle axe, + It mak' de chip to fly + T'ick as snowflak' in de winter, + Or mosquito on July. + + Paul will come from Manchester, + An' Xavier from Lowhell; + Joe will come from River Fall, + Immediate--pell mell; + An' every mill of Honcle Sam + Will have to close de loom, + W'en all our boys aroun' de State + Will come to fight at home. + + O by de jomp up hooricane! + If Yankee don't stop brag; + She'll fin' more star on top his head, + Den he got top his flag; + She'll fin' one tiger on his track, + Wit' blood-shot on his eye, + And ev'ry Yank dat cross de line + For fight, is sure to die. + +[Illustration: Gagne's Cavalry.] + + De Lac Megantic m'litia man + Is sure to tak de lead, + You bet your life w'en he get rouse + Someboda got to bleed! + An' w'en from Lac St. Francis + Come de Greenland Grenadier + He'll mak' all Yankee man he meet + Go home de top his bier. + + De Horseman from La Patrie too, + Will come an join de fray, + An' blow his tin horn bugle, + On de top Canada gray; + De Voltigeurs from Weedon, + An' de Lampton Light Brigade, + Will come an' show to Jameson + De way to mak a raid. + + O' we can fight dat Yankee man + As fadders fought before! + On battle of Chateaugay, + W'en five Frenchman kill a score! + De Hinglish, Scotch, an' Hirish, too, + Will join us, don't you fear-- + Dere's notting top dis earth can lick + Canadian Volunteer! + + An' for one more good leader man, + We'll send for Louis Cyr, + An' he'll tak' charge de Chesham Corps + An' Ditton Fusileer; + De Hinfantry from Emberton + Will join de Yankee hunt, + And Peter Gagne's Cavalry + Will gallop on de front! + + + + +THE GRIPPE + + + To see us now, deceivers + Would say this land of beavers + Was full of fitful fevers + And other chills. + On all the passing breezes + There's nothing heard but wheezes, + With hacking coughs and sneezes, + And other ills. + + The bear, that northern prowler, + The 'Oonalaska howler, + And every other growler + We read about, + With us have caught the churning + Whose cause is past discerning, + The demon that is turning + Us inside out. + + The monster's exultation + Is heard throughout the nation, + He stops at every station + To spread himself; + And no one can avoid him, + 'Tis useless to deride him, + Impossible to hide him + Upon a shelf. + + Whence come those sudden changes, + With all their train of twinges, + Grim foes of health that hinges + On atmosphere? + There surely is a reason + For this fantastic season, + That sets the world a sneezin' + About us here. + + This "rushing" influenza, + Just taken for a mensa, + Most certainly will cleanse a' + Your system, man. + It has the knack to stick, too-- + 'Twould surely turn "Old Nick" blue + And draw his toenails quick through + His diaphragm. + + No power can avail, man, + To drive him from the trail, man; + The patent drugs for sale man, + Can never cure. + He comes against your will, man, + And sneaks around to kill, man; + The rippling of his rill, man, + Is never pure. + + It droppeth like the rain, man, + Extracted by the pain, man, + And driveth one insane, man, + To think of it. + It robs us of our food, man, + And freezes up our blood, man-- + And sleep! Nary a nod, man, + Or wink of it. + + The old world it's been tearing-- + Now we must have a hearing; + It crossed the strait of Behring-- + Yes, bound to win. + Ah! now it overtakes me, + The shivering that shakes me + Is one that surely makes the + Whole world akin. + + Across from coast to coast, sir, + You wander like a ghost, sir; + Every one can boast(?), sir, + Of having you. + You strike at high and lowly, + The wicked and the holy, + The poor, and they who roll thee, + Fifth avenue! + + No doubt our friend bold "Fairman", + And also John his chairman, + Are pulling out their hair (?), man, + And looking wild. + If influenza has them, + My writing will not please them; + So, Oscar, pray don't tease them + Or get them riled. + + Gu'tchew! gu'tchew! gu'tchew! man; + "Good day, mar ha u diugh, man; + 'Sda chuin [B]neanaib na shruth, man, + Le-uiske beatha." + That's what I hear around me + Wherever Celtic sound be, + And also, O confound thee, + America! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote B: Water spring.] + + + + +TRUDEL'S TRAVELS + + +Joe + + Said Joe, "I mus' go w'ere de win' she don' blow + For six mont' in de year, wit' its mout' full of snow: + W'ere t'ermom' at de door don' sink down to de floor, + Yes, to 40 degree below razo, or so. + + "W'ere de breeze mak' you sneeze, an' de pump-handle freeze, + An' de snow she is go up above to you' knees, + Is no place for me Joe, so I'm t'ink I will go + Lak de Hun to de sun, wit' ma wife an' Louise. + + "I got pos' car' today from Eugene, an' he say + To sell out on de farm, an' go down rat away + To Lowhell on de mill w'ere I earn de green bill, + An' de Merri-mac sing, tra la ling, all de day." + + +Marie + + But Marie said, "Oui, I am not jus' agree + Wit' de plan dat you han' for dat gran' beeg movie; + If you start for de State jus' be sure not be late: + I will stay rat at home till you come, don' you see? + + "So skedad," she is yell, "an' go down to Lowhell, + W'ere de snow she don' blow and no ice clog de well! + I will freeze if I please, or go sout' wit' de geese, + An' live 'long wit' ma niece in 'at ol' Lennoxvell." + + +Joe + + "Yes, ma dear, I can hear, if you don' spik so clear, + An' break in lak a bomb on de drom of ma ear; + You may fly wit' you' niece an' go live wit' de geese, + If you promise to write in you' flight once a year. + + "She is give me one glance an' at once I can see + It's more safer in France den at Lampton for me; + In her face it is war an' I notice, by gar, + It's more cold in her eye den de 60 degree! + + "An' Marie, is she froit? Not to notice it yet! + For she scream till she steam an' she steam till she's wet; + An' I notice once more as she stamp on de floor: + She is build on de line of de fin' suffragette! + + "Ah! So cold lak de pump, or de frost on de stump, + An' her beautiful back is rise up in de hump; + Quick I mak' up my min' w'en I look on dat sign, + It is jus' 'bout de tam for me Joe mak' a jomp! + + "In de quarr'l of a fam' don' it sure beat de ban' + How de neighbors butt in, jus' lak one of de clan-- + If ol' Liz' an' her phiz would kip out of my biz', + It is sure not be half de divorce in de lan'. + + "Did I jomp? Well, I'm not geeve it secrets away + Dat's between man an' wife an' de pump any day, + But Marie w'en she's woun', tak's some tam to run down, + An' before she collapse she me raps in dis way:" + + +Marie + + "I am born for to toil, I am tie to de soil, + An' you t'ink it's enough if for once in a while + I can ride to Shalbrooke, wit' cheval dat you took + From de crows in de spring, jus' to show it my style! + + "Lak de queen I am feel wit' no grease on de wheel, + An' t'ree pigs in a box nottings lef' but de squeal! + Wit' his snout stick it out through de slat lake a spout-- + An' his body come too but got knot on de tail! + + "An' I know I am show lak de scare of de crow, + W'en down Wellington street to de market we go; + An' garson in bare feet--all de blaggard I meet + Mak' me squirm lak de worm from ma head to de toe. + + "O ge whizz I am proud w'en we come on de crowd, + An' damfool out of school, he is laugh it out loud; + But de glory to God w'en I t'ink of de load + An' de boneyard dat carry it over de road, + An' de squeak of de gig, and de squeal of de pig, + I don' blame it for laugh w'en he look at de rig! + + "'Ha! ha!' he is cry, 'hope to die, how you feel? + Ain't it tam to give pig in dat box some more meal? + You' horse it's too fat lak de edge of de slat; + Not 'nuff grease in de pig for to put on de wheel! + W'at you tak' it in cash for you' automosqueal?'" + "Dat's de cry dat I hear on de top of ma ear + W'en Marie, dat is me, an' her chariot appear. + An' as sure I'm rebel as you' name is Trudel + If it's not some improvement in movement nex' year." + + +Joe + + "O, I know very well, ma cheval is poor breed, + But for trav' lak de dev' he is very fine steed; + It is true he is slim, but jus' look at his limb-- + He is build lak de fly-machine--all for de speed! + + "Yes, Marie, I agree dat ma rig is look tough, + So I'll spik it to Ingram, or else to Ren Clough: + I will horder cheval of de bes' in his stall, + An' nex' trip you'll be queen of de May, sure enough." + + +Marie + + "You' sarcast' is not ask it is soun' lak de clown, + If you see you'se'f once as you look to de town + You would pull in you' horn jus' as sure you are born, + For you haven't got sense enough sure to go roun'. + + "Yes, sir, ma dear Joe, you don't seem, for to know, + On las' trip to de town you was mos' of de show: + Wit' t'ree quart whiskey blanc dat you pour down you' craw-- + O you bet you forget all 'bout 60 below! + + "In Shalbrook on each trip you complain of de grippe, + Dr. Bum is soon come wit' a "nip" on de hip: + You get sick very quick jus' before de physic, + But de cure is work sure after tak' de firs' nip. + + "Las' tam you was in you begin de ol' trick, + An' you' frien' soon atten' to tak' charge of de sick; + Soon you smug' a beeg jug to de stall of you' plug-- + But Marie' dat is me, an' cheval mak' a kick. + + "O dat 2-gallon stein of de jolly highwine, + In de provender mix, mak' a bully combine! + If it's good for a fool sure it's good for de mule, + An' dat is as true as twice four it is nine. + + "I am t'ink if you drink till you' loaded for wreck, + I will geeve de ol' nag de sam' jag on de deck; + So I pour a few peck of de stuff down his neck + An' start in to smash record for trot in Kebec. + + "Yes, I mix it de stuff, jus' de full of beeg pail-- + Will he eat it or drink it? It's puzzle to tell: + But he gobble an' gobbed an' he slobber and slobbed + Until nottings was lef' of de stuff but de smell! + + "Bam by it was sly in de eye dat was dull, + An' he sneeze an' he wheeze an' de halter he pull; + Pretty soon he is grow to ac' jus' lak ma Joe-- + Yes a man an' cheval is de sam' w'en its full! + + "Come hop on de wagon, it's ready for flight; + Load is leaving for Lampton, ol' Joseph sit tight. + Whoa, Boneyparte, whoa! An' Calamity Joe! + Kip still till you bid (hic) ol' Shalbrooke good night. + + "An' de soun' of his feet as he dance on de street, + Seem to me lak de play of de drum w'en she's beat; + An' he rattle his bones on de pavement of stones + Till it mak' me feel sure I am winning de heat! + + "Wen we pass it pell mell thru' on ol' Lennoxvell, + Peop' is t'ink dat de college is practice hees yell; + I am know it's disgrace on such educate place-- + But it mak' leetle differ to Joseph Trudel. + + "For, more loud as before he is roar on de spot, + Boneyparte is respon' an fly on lak de shot-- + Frank Bogash is stan' still on de top of Sand Hill, + An' say, 'glory to God, he can beat me for trot!' + + "An' his tail in de win' is fly up wit'out bend, + Jus' as straight lak de pole dat de trolley car send. + Yes, it stick up behin' lak de mos' of its kin', + An' I'm t'ink dat de spark is fly out at de end! + + "He is wheeze on de breeze till I'm 'fraid he will bus', + An' ma Joe, de ol' fou, is yell 'Go it, you cuss!' + Jus' as soon as he yell Boney do as he tell, + An' de city of Cookshire we leave in de dus'. + + "It's rat here I got scare, an' declare to him 'Hi! + Can't you steady you nerves an' come down from de sky?' + But I fin' it's no use, for de dev' is seem loose, + An' de more as I coax it de louder he cry! + + "On de top of de slope w'ere dey bury de Pope + I say, 'Joe, you go slow through dis precinct I hope.' + But he yell for protection--'Hoorah for 'lection, + Free trade will be hang if it get some more rope!' + + "An' I know rat away dat de dev' is to pay, + W'en he cry to de sky in dat blood curdle way + For John Henry arose, to meet frien' or de foes-- + An' said, 'Ladies an' gentlemen, where's Laurier?' + + "O, de stones on de graves is look white lak de sheep, + An' de fear of ma scare mak' de hair on me creep + W'en he lif' up his head, look aro'nd him an' said, + 'There ain't nothin' to it,' an' went back for more sleep! + + "Bam by I am get over de mos' of ma fright; + I don' look to de lef, I don' look to de right. + But kip rat straight ahead for more place of de dead-- + For ma pals stop for nottings but spirits tonight. + + "An' de rat de tat tat of his iron shoe hoof + Soun' lak hail in de gale dat is fall on de roof; + An' de stone dat is pass, an' de dus' in ma face, + Of de speed Boney mak' is one jolly good proof. + + "An' at Bury, I guess, Joe is want me to res' + An' put down at de tavern of Peter Gilless; + But I tole to him plain he was on de wrong train-- + No way station stop for de lightning hexpress! + + "Whoa! Boneyparte, whoa! W'at's de matter wit' you? + Can't you jus for one minute go little bit slow? + But he don't seem to min' any more as de win', + An' pass out through de swamp w'ere de dam-beaver grow. + + "Wen de Meadows we reach, lak de dev' he was hump, + An' ol' Chimney de Hill he was climb in t'ree jump; + All de Scotch on de road say 'de glory to God, + It mus' sure be de ghost of ol' 'Caillach de fump!' + + "At each place of de dead, I say 'Joe, prinnes garde, + You kip still on dis hill, an' don' yellen so hard.' + But ma Joseph of course, jus' as crack as de horse + Kip on yell to beat tell w'en he see de graveyard! + + "At one place as we pass, I t'ink down de Black Eye, + Sleep some dear pioneer--80 year since dey die: + Here ol' Joe yell so loud for de clans in de shroud + Some is jomp up to see w'at de dev' is pass by! + + "An' jus' leettle way down, Boney stop in his track, + An' he spy, an' he shy, an' he try to turn back; + But Joe hit him a clip on de hip wit' de whip, + An' somebodda in Scotch is yell 'Frangach a cack.' + + "But Boney don' need it de crack of de switch, + As he jomp through de stomp on de top of de ditch, + Yellin' 'Caillach a rad cross! I am los', I am los'!' + An' was chase in de race by de wil' Lingwick witch! + + "O de glory to Gordon! her look mak' me chill, + As we shoot over reevers lak wisp-o'-de-will; + An' den down to de mill, an' up over de hill, + W'ere de capitol Gould ro'nd de scales is stan' still. + + "But not so de chariot dat's passin', you bet: + Too much hurry to talk to de peop' dat we met-- + It's no stop-over right on Joe's ticket tonight-- + He is head on for Lampton an' don' you forget! + + "Yes, ol' caillach de crossing is scare Joseph blind, + An' I'm t'ink for a while it will help it--his mind-- + O you bet he was 'fraid of dat sweet highland maid + Who was squeal lak de deil on our heel jus' behind! + + "We was gallop through Galson, till Tolsta approach, + Near de line dat's dividing de French from de Scotch; + Here ol' hag of de fright, scream to Joseph 'Good night! + On de witches of Winslow I mus' not encroach!' + + "W'en Joe lose it de vision he's courage come back + An' he ask w'at she mean by de 'Frangach is crack'; + W'en I tole him he cry 'Dam Scotch haggis good bye! + De nex' tam dat I trav' I will kip from you track!' + + "'Who is said I was 'fraid of de sick or de well? + I am not a bit scare of twin devils from Dell; + Not one man of my day, but de beeg George MacRae + Can lick one of de sides of me, Joseph Trudel!' + + * * * * * + + "Dat's de way dat you rave, an' behave, an' you boast + On de night dat cheval an' his pal see de ghost: + An' de tremens was goad you so much on de road + I am wonder de load ever get to dis post. + + "O, it's joy, for a wife, in dis worl' of de strife, + To be shame of de game till it stab lak de knife; + An' de peop' are all tell 'Dat's de mate of Trudel, + Who is travel lak hell on de jo'rney of life. + + "Dat's why you are cry, an' you' heart feel it sore, + An' you ask me to roam from ma home evermore. + Jus' you geeve up one t'ing, an' de birds it will sing, + An' de sonshine will cling w'ere it's shadow before! + + "O dat man is de bes' who will cling to his nes' + W'ere he's born an' he's raise an' he's work an' he's res'; + If he don' mak' success rat at home, I confess, + Den it's slim hope for him in de Sout' or de Wes'. + + "An' dear Joe, don' you know we have got no hexcuse + For de way we offen', an' descen' to abuse? + Me you cannot deceive, for I know you are grieve + Jus' as much as Marie for de dear ones we lose. + + "An' de pain is mos' kill, an' it's nevair kip still, + Since dey bury ma Mary an' boy on de hill; + W'en you ask it I fin' dat I can't leave behin' + Lonely grave of ma darlings, Marie and boy Bill. + + "An' I'm feel it is true, half of me's bury too, + Since was lay in de clay leettle body from view! + So you do w'at you lak, I will try for to mak' + Jus' de bes' of de bargain, I promise to you. + + "But I tole to you, Joe, if you t'ink I mus' go, + It is only half womans be wit' you I know; + For de res' of me stay w'ere de leettle ones lay-- + In de summer an' flower, in winter an' snow!" + + + + +THE END OF THE TRAIL + + + I was summoned in the gloaming to the bedside of a friend + Who was passing through the shadows ever lurking at the end: + To the bedside of a comrade I had known long, long ago + Back in dear old Compton County, where the sugar maples grow. + Just a simple son of Lewis, careless, fearless, poor and proud, + As becomes a Highland Scotsman of the royal clan MacLeod. + He could sing the songs of loveland, as I've seldom heard them sung-- + Richest treasures of the Highlands flowed in music from his tongue. + What a privilege and pleasure to have heard him in his prime, + Ere his mellow notes were burdened by the cruel strains of time. + When the gentle nurse had brought me to the couch of poor old John + E'en a novice would not question that his race was nearly run. + He was lonely in the city, longing for the spruce and pine, + And his eyes grew bright with pleasure as he placed his hand in mine, + Saying: "Don't forget me, Angus, but come out to see me here, + For the nights are long and lonely, and the days devoid of cheer. + Yes, I know my days are numbered, all the signs to me are plain: + I shall never guide the movements of the skid road boys again. + There's a secret I would tell you that I've never told before, + It was locked up in my bosom fifty years ago or more: + It's of Mary, gentle Mary, whom I loved in years agone-- + Loved her then and will forever, and my Mary loved her John! + But there came another wooer, who was rich as I was poor, + And her parents looked with favor on this keeper of a store. + I was wounded, yes, and angry, that their greed should thus deny + Me the place they held for riches, so I bade them all good bye, + And I left my Mary weeping, though she begged of me to stay-- + Left her weeping--to my sorrow--and I westward took my way. + Then I drifted hither, thither, like the flotsam of the sea: + Every year a little farther from my home in Tallabharee, + Till at last I came to anchor on the shores of Puget Sound, + Where so many of my comrades in misfortune may be found." + Here his speech grew slow and halting, as he said, amid his groans, + He had feared for what might happen to his "poor old aching bones." + "Do not let them sink my body where the derelicts are thrown, + For although I'm poor in pocket, pride was bred within my bone. + When my limbs refuse their burden and I cannot further go, + And the trail is dark and tangled where the fir and cedars grow; + When the cord of life is severed and in death I'm lying low, + And there's nothing left but tallabh of the John you used to know: + Lay me down amid the shadows of the forest that I love, + With the grey green moss around me and the skies of God above; + Where no noises will disturb me save the whisper of the woods + And the night-birds' dismal hooting in the primal solitudes, + Where the crooning voice of nature chants the glory of the West, + Let the groves of God hold vigil o'er my everlasting rest. + Over there beyond the shadows I will find my Mary dear, + And we'll cruise the trails together that we missed so sadly here." + When again I looked upon him death had wrapped him in its chill, + Songs were silenced now forever and the lilting lips were still. + + + + +HOMESICK. + + + I am tire now of roam', Rosemarie, + An' long to be at home 'mong de tree, + W'ere de Robin redbreas' sing + In de branches every spring, + An' de bes' of everyt'ing, You wit' me! + + For de independen' man, Rosemarie, + Farmin' is de bettair plan, seem to me; + W'ere no boss is stan' an' swear + Till you feel lak pull you' hair-- + O! ba gosh I want ma fare rat away! + + Yes, if man has got one soul, Rosemarie, + Don' it mak' him hot lak ol' Mont Pelee! + To be order' ro'nd his work + Lak some lezzy dog-gone Turk-- + By a boss call Barney Burke, O sacre! + + O, I long to see my farm, Rosemarie; + W'ere ol' Nature full of charm wait for me-- + W'ere de angel painter deck + Ev'ry sod an' stone an' stick: + Ro'nd ma home in ol' Kebec, Rosemarie! + + Yes, I dream abo't it all, Rosemarie, + Ev'ry tam to sleep I fall, night or day: + I can see dat bock-wheat fiel' + Dat is soon be turn to meal, + An' I hear de fat pig squeal, "hot gravie"! + + O, ma heart is on de jomp, Rosemarie, + For be back among de stomp, You an' me: + Ma potato in de lot, + An' ma onion growin' hot, + An' de sweet pea in de pot, hully gee! + +[Illustration: Sergeant-Major Larry.] + + + + +SERGEANT MAJOR LARRY OF THE GALLANT 58TH + + In '96 the author served his Queen for two weeks on + the plains of Rockland, near Richmond, Que., as + orderly under the gallant Capt. Peter Gillies, now of + Bury, P. Q. One of the subordinate officers becoming + the butt of his comrades owing to unpopular tactics + the following "Come-allye" resulted. The author may + add that this "drill" ended his military career--he + hasn't been orderly since. + + + O come all ye loyal volunteers, + You're ordered for review: + Keep your eyes on Sergeant Larry + Of the famous "No. 2". + He's the model of a soldier, + And 'tis worth your while to watch + How he handles the maneuvers + In his drill among the Scotch. + + Sure his "honors" sought him early, + He was here but half a week, + When the call came: "Forward, Larry, + You're promoted for your cheek: + Take your stripes and stand for orders + And reveal to No. 2 + What a mixture of conceit and gall, + With brass and cheek, can do." + + And the "orders" are "Fall in, my men, + Look sharp, and don't be late! + Signed, Sergeant Major Larry, + Of the gallant 58." + Come, my boys, you need not grumble, + You have but to grin and yield, + For brave Kitchener's "not in it" + When bold Larry's on the field. + + When we started down from Scotstown + We were just as big as him, + But his honors won so quickly + Made the rest of us look slim. + O, he swelled in regimentals + Till he quite outgrew his tent, + But he'll get the one he asked for + When old Hogan pays his rent. + + O we are loyal volunteers, + Our red coats prove us so, + We are ready, aye, and willing now + To meet our country's foe. + Who would not be proud of Canada + And for her sake to bleed? + For success would crown our efforts + If bold Larry took the lead. + + Yes, the sword that dangles by his side's + A borrowed one, I know + But it matters not to Larry, + As it helps to make a show! + See him strut around the camp ground, + Like a peacock in the grass! + And the "staff" will send him higher + When it needs a boom in brass. + + Such was Larry bold--in peace time-- + He was brave as Lochinvar, + But he quickly changed his music + As the bugle called for war; + When the Highlanders grew wrathy, + With their hair straight up on end, + Sergeant Larry dropped at Bury, + As he wished to see a friend! + + We were left without a leader + And the riot louder swelled, + Divers Scotsmen drew their bayonets + And for blood they madly yelled. + Ev'ry car was full of soldiers, + Noisy as salvation drum, + On the day we left Camp Rockland + And the troops came shouting home. + + After Larry comes the "Colonel," + And a valiant man is he, + Tho' he never led his forces + From "Atlanta to the sea"; + Yet, if e'er the country needs him, + Every clansman will awake, + From old Hampton down to Weedon + And from Lingwick to the Lake. + + We will conquer with our music + If our fighting fails to win, + Whom bold Larry cannot vanquish + We will silence with our din; + Thus we'll proudly march to glory + And in midst of all the fray + We'll be cheered by French of Scotstown + As he whistles "Cabar Faidth." + + And McLennan with his bagpipes, + He's a brass band in himself, + We will have him with his music + To conjure the fighting elf. + There is nothing so inspiring + As a loyal tune or song, + To arouse a soldier's spirits + And to cheer the "boys" along. + + We will have them there from Scotstown, + From Ben gal and Echo Vale, + Men imbued with faith and courage, + Highland traits which never fail; + And to swell the fighting faction + We've the twins of Murray's Clan, + Who can fight their weight in wildcats-- + Not to mention mortal man! + + And we've armies to fall back on, + Whose supply will never fail, + Troops which cross the wild Atlantic + On all ships of steam or sail; + You will find them throughout Canada, + Wherever you may roam, + And the natives call them "home boys", + For they never stop at home. + + +Chorus + + Beat the drums and blow the bugle, boys, + And whoop it all you're worth, + As a token to the nations + You are rulers of the earth! + If you wish to shine as soldiers + You must all be up to date, + And uphold the reputation + Of Battalion 58. + + + + +THE FENIAN RAID WHICH NEVER WAS MADE + + During the Boer War a number of prominent gentlemen + addressing a great mass-meeting in New York advised + the Tammany Tiger to go up and clean out the Canadian + jungles, intimating that the majority of the French + Canadians were ready to cast off the "British Yoke." + + + From de country of de Yankee, + Where de heagle bird is roost, + Where de Star and Stripe is worship + All de way from coast to coast, + Comes a rumble of de danger + Dat is t'reaten us once more, + W'en de Fenian tak' hadvantage + Of our trobble wit' de Boer. + + Some crank mans in New York City + Mak' beeg speech dat soun' lak' joke, + And he tell us "what a pity + Canadaw wear British yoke!" + And dey shout out to de people + In de clap-trap of de brave: + "We will send it men and money + For to liberate de slave!" + + P'raps dey mean all right for Joseph, + But I t'ink before dey come, + Dat someboda ought to tole it, + "Charata begin at home." + And dey try to move McKinley + In de favor of Oom Paul-- + Not because dey love de Boer, + But because dey hate John Bull. + + Now if Joe he know de feeling + Of de U. S. at this tam, + All de foe of Queen Victoria + Is de foe of Honcle Sam. + It is hinsult to ma country + For dese men to yell and tell + Dat de Canuck don't is loyal + To de queen he love so well. + + Tak' de history of ma people, + From de day of Wolfe-Montcalm, + An' you'll find it patriotic + To de backbone jus' de sam'. + I am sorry for dis fighting, + As I don't dislak de Boer; + But ba gosh w'en its mean troub', boys, + Den I lak' ma country more. + + Hip hoorah! for British soldier, + Hip hoorah! for British flag! + And God bless de Canuck forces + Gone to help uphold de rag! + Down wit' all disloyal member + Of de body politik, + French or Henglish, rich or poor mans, + By de power let him trek! + (I'm not onderstan' dis las' word, + Don't hinvent it in Quebec.) + + Now I read it on de pepper + Dat J. Tarte is mak' some sneer + On de patrihotic feeling + Of de Canuck volunteer; + So I'll tole ma frien' Sir Wilfrid + For to check his runnin' mate-- + T'row heem out de sam' lak Jonah, + Or he'll sink de ship of state! + + Long ago w'en I was babby + Fenian mak' it one beeg "raid" + For to capture Canuck country-- + Hole an' young an' man an' maid. + Up dey come from state of Var-mont, + Halso from de state of Maine, + To de state of destitution + Pretty near to Stanstead Plain! + + Dere dey met two t'ree hole farmer, + Wit' some sickle in her han', + An' she hask hinvading army + W'at dey want on top her lan'. + Dey could mak' no hones' hanswer, + So de farmer tole 'em "leave," + An' before you say Jack Robin! + Dey skedaddle lak de dev'! + + Yes dis rag-tag bob-tail soldier + Start across de "line" on run, + Jus' de sam' lak' Coxey army, + W'en it march from Washington! + Nodder tam two t'ree more Fenian + Come aroun' ma home to tak' + W'en ma fadder an' ma grandpa + Was off fish upon de lak'. + + Noboda aroun' but womans + W'en de Fenian come dat day, + An' ma gran'ma wit' de pitchfork + T'rowim over fence lak hay! + No, I don't want Fenian, t'ank you, + For to lif' de British yoke, + I can wear it leetle longer + On ma farm at Centre Stoke. + + So, if stranger cross de border + For hinvasion of dis' lan', + We will meet it in good order + Wit' strong weapon in de han'. + Yes, let Finnigan de Fenian + Cross de "line" to hole Quebec, + An' lak chicken of de story + She'll get somet'ing in de neck. + + We will grab it by de collar, + And some place dat's near de seat, + An' dere rags will mak' a flutter + In de gutter of de street; + An' ba Christmas she will fin' me + Wit' ma shoulder to de "yoke," + Waiting for dat rag-tag army + Of hinvasion--watch ma smoke! + + + + +A LEAP-YEAR BALL AT LINGWICK + + + The night before last Hallowe'en + Tho' wet as any ever seen, + Must henceforth mark a date supreme + In Lingwick's social lore. + As on that eve the ladies all + Came forth to give their leap-year ball-- + And long ere ten the dancing hall + Was crowded to the door. + + Since Scottish heroes sang duans + Upon the field of Prestonpans, + So fine a gathering of the clans + Was surely never seen. + And brilliant Byron's "ladies fair" + Who danced in Belgium's balmy air + Could never with our girls compare + In beauty's realm, I ween. + + Were I a Burns I'd sing their praise + In grateful sympathetic lays, + And tell them how a bard repays + The smiles on him bestowed. + O! for a pure poetic drift, + Or bard McRitchie's splendid gift, + To give those charming girls a lift + On chummy Hymen's road. + + Since first the red man trod those lands, + In happy, reckless, roving bands, + Where now the town of Lingwick stands, + Until the present time. + No festal scene deserved such note, + Of such a scene no poet wrote, + Tho' painted with a double coat + Of stirring prose or rhyme. + + The lively Galson girls were there, + With dancing eyes and wavy hair, + And roses stamped by caller air + On every blooming cheek. + And other ladies, fair and bright, + Who live near by, were there that night, + Contributing the keen delight + Of beauty, so to speak. + + Oh bachelors, how sweet to glide + With such bright charmers by one's side! + And ev'ry heart a surging tide + Of leap-year sentiment! + You might perambulate around + Until you'd hear the trumpet sound-- + No better quarters could be found + To pitch your earthly tent. + + At 12 o'clock the ladies came + And took each blushing(?) humbled swain + Across the road, where Eddie's dame + Had placed a royal feast. + Each charmer paid (alas how rare!) + Her own and hungry fellow's fare, + And splendid food was furnished there + For o'er an hour at least. + + We must congratulate each belle + From mountain, vale and Fisher Hill, + Who paid her leap-year tax so well + Last Friday night at Gould. + Had we our wish we'd gladly call + Twice yearly for a leap-year ball, + For surely we were happy all + The while the women ruled. + + And we beseech you throw your charms + Around the lonely mountain farms, + Where bachelors are up in arms + Against your luring spell. + Fan to a flame the sluggish smoke, + Place Gibourd in a double yoke, + And give friend Finlay Ian a poke + To keep him hale and well. + + Dear girls, keep up your enterprise + And dazzle all those "bache's" eyes, + Before the present leap-year dies + And robs you of your rights. + Take pity on the lonely men + From "Midnight" to big corner "Ken," + Or later on "it might have been" + Will rob your sleep o' nights. + + The 'legibles we'll briefly scan: + There's Merchant Donald B. Buchan, + Who is a dear, good-natured man, + And not too old to mend; + And Layfield, too, by George! you bet, + A closer friend it's hard to get-- + Besiege their hearts, they're both to let, + And bliss will rule the end. + + And finally O'Norman "Hoe", + Can Cupid's dart e'er conquer you, + And penetrate your bosom through + To kindle there a flame? + Shall living mortal ever see + A bouncing baby on your knee + Whose lisping tones will add with glee + "Papa" unto your name. + + + + +HOLY WILLIE'S PRAYER Or THE HOLLERIN' HOHENZOLLERIN + + + Dear Gott! der weight of "right divine" + Iss on my shoulters heavy yet; + Und worries grow for me und mine + For fear our thrones should be upset. + + Democracy disturbs my dreams + Und leaves Thy Villiam veak und vorn; + Der worldt iss upsite down, it seems, + Since Chermany was made to mourn. + + Ve deemed der throne of "Nick" secure + From Gottless hordes who scheme and scoff; + But foes of mineund Thine, impure, + Rebelled und bowled der Romanoff! + + Und also Greece went on der skids, + For Constantine, my Constantine! + Und other kinks may lose their lids + Till all are gone safe mine und Thine! + + If von by von ve lose our crown + My schemes on earth vill be upset; + Und Gott! if Ireland turns us down + Ve're in der soup alretty yet! + + Der Yankees, too, are now in France, + To aid der hateful Philistine, + Und swear they'll make der Kaiser dance + Der Turkey trot across der Rhine! + + (Aside) + Yes, I vill dance und I vill trot, + Der Shottiss und der minuet, + But, by der power of "Me und Gott" + U. Sam vill pay der piper yet! + + Gott, I've been faithful to my trust + Since Thou dids't place me on der throne; + My sword wass neffer known to rust + Vile it coult yet extract a groan. + + Wheneffer yet I drew dot sword + To make der helpless victim bleed, + I alvays called upon der Lort + To guide my arm und bless der deed! + + I sink der ships on all der seas, + My submarines are on der chob! + Despairing cries invade der breeze + Und music's in der dying sob! + + I rain der pombs from oudt der sky, + On schools and hospitals below; + Der vimmen und der chiltren die-- + For thus do ve reduce der foe! + + Lort help me mit my war to prove + To all der swine as they shoult know, + Thou are der ruler up above + Und I am ruler down below! + + I am der Moses as of oldt, + I smite der heathen hip and thigh-- + Lort send me Aaron yet to holdt + Thy fainting servant's handts on high! + + On Gideon still holdt der sun-- + Thou dids't for "Josh" in years agone; + Und let der melancholy moon + Still flood der vale of Ajalon! + + (Aside) + O Chermany! dear Chermany! + Der Lort of Hosts vill see you through! + Ve are der chosen people ve, + Und not der Scotch or cunning Jew! + + Vonce, Lort, Thou knowest ve vere chums, + Und everything did come my vay; + But now Thou'rt turning down der thumbs, + No matter how so loudt I bray! + + Remember, Chermany's Thy friendt; + Upholdt it, Lort, for our dear sake; + Der line of Hintenburg is bent-- + O help us, Gott, before it break! + + I'm trusting in Thine aid divine, + Und bray und fight mit shot and shell, + But Himmel fails to hold der line + Against Canucks dot fight like hell! + + I bray at morning, bray at night, + Und bray at noon ven it is hot; + But Gott is keeping oudt of sight-- + He answers not, He answers not! + + O! can it be, as scoffers say, + Der race iss for der von who runs? + Und dot no matter how ve bray + Der Lort is mit der biggest guns? + + If so it be, then all iss lost; + Farewell, farewell, dear Chermany! + Lloyd Chorge can figure up der cost + And charge it all to Gott und me! + + + + +HOW WE SETTLED THE ALASKAN BOUNDARY QUESTION + + These lines were penned long before the breaking out + of the present great war. Note the remarkable spirit + of prophesy which pervaded the poem, especially its + allusion to the Armenians. + + + Now that little Venezuela + Has her navy back in tow, + With the "allies" in the distance + Waiting for the promised "dough", + It may not be deemed improper + For the mind that loves to roam, + Just to focus its attention + On some matters nearer home. + + We are also growing weary + Of the "war clouds in the East", + Which bob up to entertain us + Once or twice a year at least. + And we'd bear the "bobbing" better + If it did not always bring + To the "concert of the Powers" + An unfailing chance to sing. + + They are masterful musicians + With chin music as their forte, + And a penchant strong for love songs + When they serenade the Porte! + While they sing the Sultan dances + Like a strolling Dago's bear, + Till one really feels the presence + Of roast Turkey in the air! + + Thus they exorcise the spirit + Of destruction in the Turk, + And adjure the imp to vamoose + And forego its bloody work. + Doth he vamoose? Yes, a season, + To return with "seven more," + While the Sultan's still insultin' + And his fingers still in gore. + + But we'll leave this doubtful concert + And its harem-scarem tones, + Meant to drown the voice appealing + In the dying Christian's groans; + And examine rather closer + Into troubles of our own. + To uproot the crops of mischief + Which old Satan may have sown. + + People must with friendly feelings, + And the best intentions, try + To elucidate the muddle + Termed "Alaskan boundary." + There's a rumble in that region, + And it shouldn't louder grow-- + Just a little cloud of worry + 'Mid the flurry of the snow. + + Why, oh why, should kindred people + Quarrel over hunks of ice? + If they knew each other better + They would settle in a trice. + But Miss Canada is frigid + And Columbia is cold, + So in presence of the couple + There's an iciness untold. + + Harken to the one bemoaning + Up among the northern lights, + How that 'tother is a "squatter" + And encroaching on her rights. + "It is mine by deed and title, + For as everybody knows-- + Not to mention Rudyard Kipling-- + I am 'Lady of the Snows'. + + "See my cousin, Hail Columbia, + Who has settled thereabout, + She will soon take Root and Lodge there + If I do not Turner[C] out. + When I asked her 'please to vacate', + Can you guess the jade's response? + Why, she sweetly smiled and answered, + 'After you, my dear Alphonse'!" + + Thus the question rests at present, + Till the arbitrators meet; + And we trust when said time cometh + They will gravely take their seat + Near the base of all the trouble, + On the apex of the Pole, + Where they'll exercise the virtue + At the least of keeping cool! + + Furl your "colors," then, ye fair ones, + In a truce of amity, + Till this august body settles + Where the "boundary" should be; + We've emerged from clouds of discord + And should never more go back + Whether Skagway's 'neath Old Glory + Or beneath the Union Jack! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote C: Root, Lodge and Turner, the three American arbitrators.] + + + + +DE GUARDS OF LAFAYETTE + + + Ma Rosie say to me today, + "You mus' prepare, ol' man, + For to join de Allied army + In de ranks of Honcle Sam. + De worl' is full commotion + Since explosion of de Hun, + An' de dev's to pay for Belgium + An' "position in de sun". + + I say, "all rat, ol' woman, + Let de summon come today, + An' you'll fin' ol' Joseph ready + For to arm an' march away! + I'm as good for carry knapsack + An' to shoulder up ma gun + As I was in Reil rebellion + On de far Saskatchewan." + + De home of ma adoption + Is as good a place for me + As across de line in Canadaw, + Ma native counteree. + Ma work, ma home, ma frien's, are here-- + In fac', de whol' dem set! + So w'at can I do but join wit you + In de Guards of Lafayette! + + I don't care me for nobodda + But stan' up for w'at's right, + An' if Honcle Sam he geeve de word + An' say we got to fight: + Good-bye ma work on Amoskeag, + I leave it quick you bet, + An' join de boy wit' utmos' joy + On de Guards of Lafayette! + + So don't mak' fuss abo't dis cuss, + An' don' be tak' it hard + If I, ol' Joe, go soon to show + Ma colors in de Guard. + You say I got some babby-- + I mus' stay rat by dem? Nit! + I will march beneat' ol' Glory + In de Guards of Lafayette! + + O ain't it mak' sensation + On de streets of Manchestar + W'en de order come from Honcle Sam + To march us off to war. + Nobodda'll know dat dis is Joe + From dear ol' Nicolet, + W'en off I march jus' stiff lak starch + In de Guards of Lafayette! + + Dear Woodrow, would you be so good + As send us Teddy R., + To be commander of de chief + An' leader of de Guar'? + Dis war, ma friend, is quick to end + If battle stage is set + For bol' Ted, on Armageddon + Leading Guards of Lafayette! + + O sure it's be proud day for me + I nevair saw before, + W'en Johnny Bull an' Honcle Sam + Fight sides by side once more! + It's mak' one combination + Dat's tarnation sure to win + W'en Old Glory joins de Allies + On dat rough road to Berlin! + + Mos' place I go dey ask me, "Joe, + Who start dis gol darn war? + Was it de Sultan-Kaiser, + Or de Austro Hungry Tsar?" + I hanswer, "well, it's hard to tell + Who start dis hell abroad, + But spite of Hun, de gas an' gun, + We'll finish it, ba God!" + + Den Rosie, dear, dry up de tear, + An' cheer up lak ma joy-- + You know de Hun is turn his gun + On leetle girl an' boy! + Now dat we mus' join in de fuss + And Honcle Sam say, "Get!" + Jus' wish us well an' shout lak hell + For de Guards of Lafayette! + + + + +THE LUMBERJACK + + + We have songs on many topics, + New and old, beneath the sun, + But, alas, in many cases, + Minstrelsy is overdone; + + So I'll sing a song of labor-- + Where the muse is rather slack-- + And my theme shall be of timber + And the hardy lumberjack. + + Now republican traditions + Are so grafted in our bones, + That e'en monarchs of the forest + Must be tumbled from their thrones. + + And to raze those ancient strongholds + We have armies of the axe, + Plucky pioneers of progress, + Known to all as lumberjacks. + + He may lack the wings of angels + And the sanctity of saints: + If a town's in need of painting + He may furnish all the paints. + + Yet he lapses but a moment + And again he hies him back + Close unto the heart of nature, + Does the lonesome lumberjack. + + There amid his wild surroundings + And the crooning of the trees, + He finds balm for mind and body + Borne on every passing breeze. + + There is something strangely healing + In the magic of the myrrh, + In the odor of the cedar + And the fragrance of the fir! + + Grind your axes, O my heroes, + Point your peavies, file your saws; + Let your ropes and chains and cables + Be examined now for flaws. + + Fire up the iron donkey, + Till each rivet feels the strain, + Lumberjack has had his outing + And returns to camp again! + + There is music in the axe fall + As it sounds upon the ear; + There is music in the sawing + When the dust is flying clear-- + + Aye, there's music for the lumberjack + Magnificent of sound, + In the crashing of the timber + As it thunders to the ground. + + He will never lack for music + While the owl is keeping time + With the ceaseless serenading + Of the frog within the slime. + + But the music ever sounding, + With the sweetest of appeals, + Is the ding-dong of the iron gong + That calls him to his meals! + + He's a credit to his calling, + To his country and his clan: + There is not a dude among them-- + Every lumberjack's a man. + + And you'll find him ever cheerful, + In the sunshine or the rain, + From the camps of B. Columbia + To the lumber camps of Maine. + + He may show a rough exterior, + But his heart is warm within-- + Mark him poring o'er that letter, + Just received from home and kin: + + Tears will gather hot and blinding + And he cannot hold them back, + Reading words from distant loved ones + to their absent lumberjack! + + 'Tis, perchance, a loving message + From a sweetheart far away, + Or a tender admonition + From a mother old and gray. + + O, ye lumberjacks, remember, + That wherever ye may roam, + There are anxious hearts awaiting + For an answer "back at home"! + + When the sun in golden glory + Hath descended in the west, + They indulge in song and story + Till they seek their bunks for rest: + + There to dream of scenes of childhood, + Amid mountain stream or glen, + Till old Sol in morning splendor + Calls them to their tasks again. + + Soft and soothing are the voices + As the shades of evening fall, + Stealing gently through the forest-- + Brooding calmly over all. + + By yon lake a loon is calling + And the night bird answers back, + Keeping vigil o'er the slumbers + Of the weary lumberjack. + + O, the lumberjack is loyal + And he'll surely see to it, + In the grind against the Kaiser + That each axe will "do its bit"; + + He will spruce up for the allies + Till ten thousand airplanes hum, + All to win the war for freedom + And democracy, by gum! + + +Chorus + + Grind your axes, O my heroes, + Point your peavies, file your saws, + Let your ropes and chains and cables + Be examined now for flaws: + Fire up the iron donkey + Till each rivet feels the strain, + Lumberjack will help the Allies + Win the war with ship and plane! + + + + +PADDY THE BOOK AGENT + +Air + +LARRY O'GAFF + + + The sun rose in splendor one foine summer morning + That marked me first effort at selling a book. + It's rays with soft beauty the landscape adorning + Sint thramps to seek bliss in some cool shady nook. + But no such rethrate the hot moments beguiling + Afforded relief to poor Pathrick O'Reilly, + Who canvassed that day epidermis parboiling + In air that would stifle a Florida cook. + + I ambled along wid me pack on me shoulder, + And prayed for a cloud to o'ershadow me path: + Says I to meself, if it doesn't grow cowlder + Poor Pat you'll be afther sure milting to death. + I entered a town an' the first house I came to + Looked much loike O'Grady's, I intered the same to, + And called for the misthress, though troth half ashamed to, + An' sat for a moment to catch at me breath. + + Be the council o' Cork I was not long awaiting, + The misthress appeared, looking black as a rook. + "The devil ye are wid yer impertince satin, + Yerself in me kitchen," she said wid a look. + Says I, "How is your rheumatiz, Mrs. O'Grady?" + And then quite politely I asked, "Can ye rade ye + Ould hathen, if not be me troth ye are nady; + Ye want to be afther sure buyin' a book." + + She looked quite intint at aich bould handsome fature, + And warm as it was, I could see that she shook. + "O'll tache ye a lesson," she scramed, "Ye vile crature, + Ye cross twixt an ape an' a Bowery street crook!" + She jumped at me troat thin an' would you belave me, + As quick as a wink through the dure did she have me, + And howled as I struck--will her tones ever lave me?-- + "The divil fly off wid yerself an' yer book." + + I left a square inch of me cheek at O'Grady's, + An' limped wid the rest to the house just fornint. + A winch in the dureway was paling some praties, + Who watched me approach wid a quizzical squint. + Says I wid the best of me Chesterfield graces, + "Good day me fair maid, ain't it hotter than blazes," + An' coaxingly swate I did ask, "If ye plaze, Miss, + To ordher a piece av me illigant print!" + + Thank God for his gifts! this colleen was a daisy, + Who flashed me a glance from her eyes of deep blue; + And smiling so swately said, "Pathrick, go aisy, + I see ye were born where the blarney stone grew." + "O yes, I was born in ould Ireland, God bless ye, + The compliment sure makes me long to caress ye, + And now be me troth I am timpted to press ye + To take all me books an' the book agent too!" + + We published the bans then to tell Oi'm not minding, + Our lips did the printing as ach wint to press-- + The type was O. K. and O. K. was the binding, + The sthrongest av bonds are two hearts that caress. + The saints be adored for the joys they were sending-- + The angels be bless'd on our nuptials attending-- + For nothing can aquel in loife till its ending + The gift of a mate loike the wan I possess! + +[Illustration: I am now one Lumberjack.] + + + + +JEAN LABONNE. + + + I am now one lumberjack, + Rosemarie, + An' I live in tumble shack + By some tree; + Twice a year I leave ma lair, + Wit' the fir spines in ma hair, + An' win' up at Totem Square, + Seattlee. + + +CHORUS + + O, I'm good wan all aroun', + Rosemarie; + I'm de bes' man on de Soun' + Wit' peavie. + In de sunshine or de wreck + I am always on de deck, + Jean Labonne from ol' Kebec-- + Dat is me! + + On de fourt' of each July, + Rosemarie; + An' w'en Chris'mas day come nigh, + You can see + Ev'ry lumber son of gun + On de States of Washington + Jus' lak Jean Baptiste Labonne, + On de spree! + + I am call' de "Skookum Kid," + Rosemarie; + I'm grease lightning on de skid + Yes siree; + I can "team" or "tend de hook," + I can "bark" or "fall" or "buck," + An' w'en whisky's down de cook + I'm "cookee!" + + O, you'd lak for tak' one ride, + Rosemarie; + Do'n de steep ol' mo'nta'n side + 'Long wit' me; + Dare is notting lak a jog + Do'n dat mo'nta'n on a log + Clinging to an iron dog, + Hully gee! + + But w'en Skookum leave de rail, + Rosemarie; + For an independen' trail + Thru de tree; + Den you see somebodda jomp + Lak de dev' along de dump, + An' climb up on wan beeg stump, + Dat is me! + + + + +CANADIANS GUARD YOUR OWN. + + During the Boer War at a time when the British forces + were suffering severe reverses a certain Quebec paper + stated that the British Empire was built on "feet of + clay" and predicted that it would, like its Babylonian + prototype, suffer a sudden fall. + + We trust it's a long long way to that "fall," and + thank God the dear old flag still waves. + + + "On feet of clay," false prophets say, + "On feet of clay, the Empire stands"; + Great Power which braves tempestuous waves + For Freedom's cause in many lands. + + Write not again, misguided pen, + Write not again our "woes" upon. + Compare us not with that vain sot + Whose misrule doomed old Babylon. + + Is it because you love their laws, + Is it because you love the Boer, + You thus assail with bitter wail + The flag which waves your country o'er? + + Flag of the brave, long may it wave! + Flag of the brave still rule the sea! + While Britain fights for human rights-- + For progress and for liberty. + + Reverses may be ours today; + Reverses may our arms attend: + But Britain's might--with Britain's right-- + Will surely conquer in the end. + + Unwise Semaine why thus complain? + Unwise Semaine why idly rave? + If it be "sin" for us to win + 'Tis sin to liberate the slave! + + Pray cant no more anent the Boer, + Pray cant no more, 'tis but a ruse + For venting rage against an age + Ahead of Semaine Religieuse. + + Our country needs no clashing creeds, + Our country needs no cliques nor clans. + United all to stand or fall, + Let's still be true Canadians! + + A glorious name our children claim, + A glorious heritage is theirs; + Then why should we thus disagree, + And strew their path with racial snares? + + The time is near, the edict's clear, + The time is near when racial strife + Will vanish quite before the light + That ushers in a nobler life. + + Your destined lot, deny it not, + Your destined lot is clear and plain; + Nor vicious kicks against the pricks + Can e'er retard the coming reign! + + No bigot's sway shall rule our day; + No bigot of a bygone age + Shall ever stand in this free land + To preach a gospel born of rage. + + Proclaiming peace, let rancor cease; + Proclaiming peace, let strife be slain. + Let Saxon trait and Gallic hate + Be merged in strong Canadian strain! + + + + +GUARD THE GAELIC + +An Exhortation to the Gael. + + + Is it not our bounden right + To uphold with all our might, + And with tongue and pen to fight + For our native Gaelic? + + Guard the language known to Eve, + Ere the Serpent did deceive-- + And the last one we believe, + Mellow, matchless Gaelic! + + Pity the disloyal clown + Who will dwell awhile in Town, + And returning wear a frown + If he hears the Gaelic. + + 'Tis amusing to behold + Little misses ten years old, + When they leave the country fold + How they lose the Gaelic. + + Some gay natives of the soil, + Cross "the line" a little while + And returning, deem it "style" + To deny the Gaelic. + + Lads and lassies in their teens + Wearing airs of kings and queens-- + Just a taste of Boston beans + Makes them lose their Gaelic! + + They return with finer clothes, + Speaking "Yankee" through their nose! + That's the way the Gaelic goes-- + Pop! goes the Gaelic. + + Tho' the so-called "tony set" + Teach them quickly to forget, + They will all be loyal yet + To their mother Gaelic. + + Then abjure such silly pride + Cast the ragged thing aside-- + Let your mongrel "English" slide + Rather than the Gaelic. + + What a dire calamity + And how lonesome we would be + If our honored Seannachie, + Failed to charm in Gaelic! + + Better far the "mother tongue"-- + Language in which mother sung + Long ago, when we were young-- + Ever tender Gaelic! + + Findlay's ever ready muse, + Stricken dumb, would soon refuse + People further to enthuse, + If he lost his Gaelic! + + And Buchanan, how could he + Sell his soda or his tea + On this side of "Talamh a righ," + If he lost his Gaelic? + + Also Merchant Edward Mac + Would not sell so much tomac + If his stock was found to lack + Lusty Lewis Gaelic! + + And Pennoyer, what would you + At the Gould post office do + When you'd hear from not a few + "Ca mar u ha u fean a diubh," + If you lost your Gaelic? + + Little Donald with the plaid + O'er his buirdly shoulder laid, + Would go dancing in the shade, + And his glory soon would fade + If he lost his Gaelic. + + From O'Groat's to lands' end, too, + What would brother Scotsmen do-- + All the loyal clansmen who + But a single language know, + If they lost their Gaelic? + + What would then become of those + Poems grand, in rhyme or prose, + Which in stately measure flows + From "Beinn Oran's" spotless snows! + "Chaibar Faidth"--the best that grows-- + "Fhir a baitha"--how he rows! + What, I ask, would happen those + If we lost the Gaelic? + + Then uphold the magic tongue + Which through mystic Eden rung + When Creation still was young-- + Language in which Adam sung + To his Eve, Earth's first love song; + When the morning stars were flung + Into space, where since they've clung-- + Ancient, Glorious Gaelic! + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + +THE AMERICAN EAGLE + + + Lofty is his habitation, peerless dweller of the skies-- + Unafraid of all creation, where his rock-ribbed turrets rise; + There's a confidence unbounded hedging 'round his solitude + That should warn marauding mongrels with designs upon his brood! + + O, the outlook from his aerie is a grand one, it is true-- + Matchless beauty in the vistas which unfold before his view; + Might and right and wealth and glory that shall never know decline + Are his attributes to conquer ruthless robbers of the Rhine! + + You invaded his dominions, sowing discord on the way; + Your besotted agents plotted to o'erthrow his mighty sway: + Using all the wiles of Willie on pacifist Bob and Pat, + Till some eaglets oversilly scarcely knew where they were at. + + He was patient with your pirates since you first began to raid + And usurp his habitation to pursue your hell-born trade; + He was patient with your plotting till you piled the final straws + Which broke down his toleration--now, ye devils, mind his claws! + + He looked on in consternation, scarce believing what he saw. + When you sank his ships in anger in defiance of all law: + Killing women and their children with a fiendishness unknown + Since the first bloodthirsty monster was misplaced upon a throne. + + Now the eagle's wrath is burning, he is eager for the fray, + And the robbers who aroused him long will rue the bitter day + When he sweeps down from his aerie in the fury of his fire-- + Sudden death will clutch the vitals of the victims of his ire! + + Yea, the eagle's wings are spreading, nobly spreading to the breeze, + And their awful sweep shall bear him over land and over seas: + Men and money move in millions where those mighty pinions rest, + And God help misguided minions who have monkeyed with his nest! + + Brave, determined northern neighbor, hold the "hills" so dearly won-- + Hold the hills until the Eagle strikes with you to crush the Hun! + Courage! Allies, friends of freedom, in this war we're all akin-- + Carry on! Old Glory's with you on the red road to Berlin! + + + + +IN MEMORY of DONALD McLEOD + + Of North Hill, Lingwick, Who Died of Smallpox, at + Flagstaff, Arizona, on the 2nd day of March, 1882. + + + The sun hath set and leaves the day, as when the soul hath left + its clay, + The pale soft tints of twilight spread from east to west. + The evening breeze that fans my cheek with mellow cadence seems + to speak, + Then sighing onward through the dusk it sinks to rest. + + On nights like this my fancy strays, to loved ones lost in + other days; + Whom gold had tempted to the sunset land afar; + Brave boys whose hopes of future wealth were blasted by thy power + O Death, + Whose mandates wage on old and young a constant war. + Among the lads so kind and true, who sought the land of golden hue, + To meet amid its glittering hopes an early doom, + Was Lingwick's strongest, lealest man, the joy and pride of all his + clan, + As brave a youth as ever graced a Compton home. + + Dear comrade of my younger days, my muse is weak to sing thy praise, + But love is strong howe'er so feeble be my strain; + And though you're sleeping cold and still, on Flagstaff's distant + pine-clad hill, + Fond memory often flits to thee across the plain. + + I loved e'er childhood's days were passed: I'll love you on until + the last; + E'en when the clouds of death approach I'll think of thee; + Oh, bitter fate! Oh, woeful hour! that cut thee down in manhood's + power; + Thrice bitter if death's chains could bind eternally. + + But blessed promise, hopeful friend, that tells us death is not + the end, + That brighter prospects loom for all beyond the wave. + Oh, sing aloud the glad refrain, that friend with friend will meet + again! + For love like this can ne'er be conquered by the grave. + + What though the red men roam at will, from arid plain to cooler hill, + Regardless of the mounds that lie amid the groves: + What though our children find their graves with ghosts of long + departed braves, + The spot is one the God of nature dearly loves. + + In Arizona's distant land, where cyclones drift the heated sand, + And where the tall, majestic pine tree branches wave; + Where gaunt coyotes prowl for prey, through storm and calm, by night + and day, + There in their midst there lies a lone, neglected grave. + + Were eloquence immortal mine I'd sing of scenes the most sublime, + Of any nature ever lavished here below. + God's majesty seems here unfurled as elsewhere not in all the world,-- + An earthly paradise o'erspread by heaven's glow. + + How fitting that thy sun went down, so near the spot that wears + earth's crown,-- + The Colorado Canyon country, weird and dim; + No grander land beneath the skies in which to die, in which to rise; + And nature's God will care for all who sleep in Him. + + What though, alas, fond earthly hopes are buried in yon western + slopes, + And gentle mothers grieve for loved ones lying there: + Though maidens sigh with sad unrest, for lovers true who died out + west; + The bitter heartache soon will cease and all be fair. + + But Donald's manly voice still rings within our ears, and memory + clings + To all the charms that marked his life while still below: + And often now our fancy's flight doth wing its journey to that night, + That marks his lonely death amid the mountain snow. + + The prairie wolves of stealthy tread already seemed to scent the + dead; + Their fitful howls were borne upon the midnight air; + The western world was wrapped in gloom, from sandy waste to heaven's + dome, + When Donald closed his weary eyes and passed from care. + + The air within the mountain camp was uncongenial, cold and damp: + And springtide gales were moaning dismally outside: + No loving hand was there to press his fevered brow with fond caress, + No gentle voice to whisper comfort when he died. + + Dear Balloch Ban, thou'rt now at rest; thy sun went down far in the + West. + Alas! no more to rise, until the Judgment Day; + No truer heart e'er ceased to beat, no braver soul O Death did greet, + Thy awful presence since the earth hath owned thy sway. + + And now he sleeps beneath the sod, where grand old mountain pine trees + nod + Their lofty plumes beneath the far-off, distant dome! + Oh, stranger, should you linger near, drop on this lonely grave a + tear, + In memory of the boy that sleeps so far from home. + + + + +OVER THE TOP + + + A lusty lad from Lewis,-- + Bright gem from Britain's crown-- + Assailed by Huns with gas and guns + In "No Man's Land" was down. + + No power on earth can save him, + 'Tis madness, then, to try; + Still to the deed sprang forth with speed + A balloch ban from Skye! + + He volunteered to enter + That zone of certain death, + And unafraid went forth to aid, + While thousands held their breath. + + Thru all that hell of fire + He sped like mountain deer-- + On shell-torn ground his comrade found, + And bore him to the rear. + + Their comrades gather 'round them + To do what mortals can: + But--cruel fate!--they found them + Beyond the help of man. + + One whispers, "Da mar ha u?" + "Gla vadh," the friend replied; + Then rescuer and rescued + "Went over" side by side! + + How marred the manly beauty! + Now torn by shot and shell-- + Ye Huns have done your duty + And served your master well! + + Poor bleeding, broken bodies + To mother earth consign-- + The spirit of the laddies + Ye cannot more confine. + + Over the top together-- + Over the great gray host-- + Homing like birds of freedom, + Back to their rock-bound coast. + + Over the top together! + Out from the fighting list: + Home where the purple heather + Blooms in the Highland mist. + + Sons of mothers returning-- + Souls from the clod set free: + Back where the home guards, yearning, + Pray that their eyes might see-- + + See through the veil between them, + Though but a brief, brief glance, + Into the eyes of loved ones, + Dead on the fields of France! + + Home where the curlew's calling + Notes that are wild and free! + Home, where the mist is falling + Into a storm-tossed sea. + + Parents of brave, dead soldiers, + Dear sisters, sweethearts, wives, + Is there no balm in Gilead + For all the dear lost lives? + + Yes, there's a balm in knowing + They died for you and me: + Their precious blood bestowing, + The price of liberty! + + Dear lusty lad from Lewis: + Brave blue-eyed boy from Skye: + In this great war you show us + How bravely men can die! + + + + +THE ALKALI LAND + +or + +A-ROAMING I WOULD GO. + + + I left my old home and my friends in the East, + Ambitious to better my fortunes, forsooth; + And seek amid scenes of the strenuous West, + The gold which had gilded the dreams of my youth. + + But gold not alone, was the dochus mo chree + Which painted that faraway country so fair; + A lure more compelling was beckoning me-- + The maiden I loved since my childhood was there! + + I did what a man without money must do, + Just walked when the "brakies" were looking too sharp. + I sang when I felt in the humor, 'tis true-- + When lonesome, like David I hung up my harp! + + I envied the lot of the fellow inside, + Who traveled in comfort asleep or awake; + While I, of all comfort and slumber denied, + Was beating my way on the beam of a brake! + + Thus onward I journeyed by night and by day, + Combating the problems of food and of rest-- + Content as I traveled the wearisome way + To know I was nearing the wonderful West. + + My pilgrimage, first uneventful and slow, + Changed color as Texas' vast reaches I struck. + Arizona the arid, and New Mexico-- + Half hell and half heaven, were also my luck. + + When tortured and weak by the heat of the sand, + And swollen my tongue and the water was done, + I wondered no more as I passed through the land + At the myriad bones bleaching white in the sun. + + Yes, on as I plodded the limitless range, + In that land of hot sand and eternal clear skies, + How oft in my thirst did I long for a change + To my own native hills, where the watersprings rise! + O Compton beloved! what visions arose, + Of thy hills and dark vales and thy cold mountain streams! + And each fountain-like fuadhran[D] which bubbles and flows, + On the farm back at home in the land of my dreams! + + Some tell me the beauty of Nature, abroad, + Surpasses in grandeur the country we boast-- + They'd alter their views if they traversed the road + I wearily tramped on my way to the "Coast". + + There may be a spot in some faraway clime + Where Nature in robes of perfection is dressed; + But give me her moods and her image sublime + As seen in the wild, woolly wastes of the West! + + I slept with the red men who roam through that land-- + Gaunt remnant that tells of the white man's abuse; + And often, although I could not understand, + Was I lulled by the soft clucking language they use. + + We never took thought on occasions like these + Of the dangers which lurked as we lay on the ground-- + Though the howl of coyote was borne past on the breeze, + And the rattlesnake coiled with an ominous sound! + + Asleep 'neath the stars of that beautiful clime, + In the shadowy gloom that same mesa had cast, + Undisturbed in my slumbers, I'd dream of the time + When the long dreary miles still ahead would be passed. + + Mysterious mesas! how ghostly ye loom! + How spectral and huge o'er the alkali waste; + The secrets of ages thy vastness entomb, + Are seemingly safe in thy mystical breast! + + When shadows of even' crept over the land, + And mountains around me grew ghostly and grey, + The fringe of the foothills I anxiously scanned + For lithe, tawny forms ever prowling for prey. + + Oft during my journey I fancied that rain + Fell cool from a cloud on my thirst-swollen lips; + Yet cloudless the sky o'er that quivering plain-- + 'Twas the last ray of hope undergoing eclipse! + + At times would the lure of this mirage prevail, + Till, reason returning, I'd hasten me back; + For I knew the safe trail was to follow the rail + Gleaming hot in the sun on the Santa Fe track! + + The phantoms of fever thus beckoned in vain, + Where better and stronger than I had been lost; + Though the hell of Mohave was scorching my brain, + I crossed it in safety and struck for the Coast. + + O boundless Pacific! I deem it no loss + To flee to thy arms from the cactus and sand; + How sweet on thy deep, heaving bosom to toss + After parching so long in the alkali land! + + I boarded a schooner that slopped in the bay-- + A tub of a ship for Seattle outbound-- + And up from old Frisco we wallowed our way + To lovely Seattle, the Queen of the Sound. + + And there on a hill, in a beautiful spot, + Overlooking Lake Union's low murmuring wave, + The love of my youth, whom so long I had sought, + Alone among strangers I found--in her grave! + +FOOTNOTE: + +[Footnote D: Water spring.] + + + + +A CHRISTMAS DREAM. + + + On Christmas night I sallied forth, + To the Red Mountain in the north; + The bright abode of men of worth + 'Twixt here and heaven; + Where Finlay's stakes in mother earth + Are firmly driven. + + I ambled up the village road, + Past many an Irishman's abode, + And carried quite a heavy load-- + The most inside; + I faith sincerely thanked the code + The way was wide. + + Here conscience loudly whispered, "Dhu, + How oft hath it been told to you, + The end that way would lead you to + Should you persist-- + With soldiers of the ribbon blue + At once enlist." + + I answered conscience, "give me peace, + The time of pledges draws apace, + When we must swear to shun the glass + And all its riot; + We've but a single week of grace + So let's enjoy it." + + I followed up by Keenan's gate + Unto the "turn" where two ways meet, + Thence to the left the mountain street + Would guide me right, + Tho' for my life I could not see't, + Just in that light. + + For where two highways ran before, + I saw a dozen tracks or more; + And which to take, I wasn't sure, + By either eye; + 'Twas but a chance against a score, + And yet I'd try. + + I started on with divers tacks, + And strove to reconcile the tracks + Which darted round, like jumping jacks, + Before my gaze; + 'Twould take a dozen crowd a cacks + Their course to trace. + + Had I big John's and Eddie's charts, + To tell me where the highway parts, + Reducing by their magic arts + Nineteen to two; + I would have from my heart of hearts + Poured blessings due. + + Confusion worse confounded, gee! + On every track a horse I see, + And all alike it seems to me + As barley scones-- + I vow, Pete Gagne's cavalry-- + Proud, prancing roans! + + Their bones were rattling in the cold + Like vales of which Ezekiel told! + A few indeed did seem too old + To nibble corn; + The colt among them all was foaled + Ere "Smoke" was born. + + Ah! crippled, gaunt and wild-eyed steed, + Thy woes are great, your want is feed! + Reminds me of D. Bunker's breed + That gasps for breath; + Aye, one and all are built for speed-- + To certain death! + + I asked the leader of the band, + If he could tell, upon which hand, + The mountain turnpike pierced the land + Around those parts; + I'd shipped a sea, I told him, and + Had lost my charts. + + "The left!" he answered with a yell; + "Tis easy, sir, your course to tell; + And that will lead you down to--well, + To "Robert's road." + Then straight away on yonder hill + Is "Smoke's" abode. + + "The right hand road you must not take, + As that will lead to Moffat Lake, + Where Cookshire sportsmen saw "big snake" + Through Alden's glass. + And thots of serpents make me quake + From head to cass." + + I gave my guide a social wink, + And started on, is cha ro blink, + Till my exuberance, I think, + Broke into song: + I said "good evening" to the "Mink," + And passed along. + + The air was keen, the night was bright, + And in the north that mystic light, + (In my exaggerated sight) + Was one to please; + The whole suggested yellow, white + Or greenish cheese! + + I gained momentum down the ridge, + And jumped John Moggish's hump-backed bridge; + Then climbed the mountain, hedge by hedge, + Unto the crest. + And thought it there my privilege + To take a rest. + + I could not find the mountain store + Which Channel mentioned in his leor, + My vision's better than before, + I really think: + Aye, C---- accounts for one or more-- + And he don't drink. + + But stores aside, I wandered on + To where the school house windows shone, + Altho' there seemed to me but one-- + A dancing glare: + I thought the northern lights were on + The programme there. + + And just within, O "hully gee!" + Is that a single Christmas tree, + Or is my vision still aglee? + For lack of breath-- + A moving forest do I see + As saw Macbeth? + + And better still the forest gleams + With all a youngster most esteems: + A greater crop, as groaning beams + Did there attest + Than Tupper saw in wildest dreams + Of wheat out West. + + And bachelors (might they be fewer)! + I thought I'd see you single, sure, + But there they sit, at least a score, + On benches stuck; + Each one a wilted, lone wall flower + Awaiting pluck. + + We pray you, O assultin Turk, + So noted for unholy work, + To send his devilship your clerk + Across the seas: + To drive our single men to kirk + With marriage fees. + + Or send Armenians not yet dead + And take our bachelors instead; + Should you then hanker for their head + Just plant their hide: + And thus avoid that hellish dread + Infanticide! + +[Illustration: _Another Finlay like your own, you'll never know._] + + Behold! I've reason now to stare! + For are there not two Finlays there-- + And only one on earth I swear-- + Come off my hat! + A worthier to fill a chair + Has never sat. + + Red Mountain, thy neglect condone-- + Within that "chair" your bard enthrone: + Instead of bread, don't give a stone + As others do-- + Another Finlay like your own + You'll never know. + + Sweet singer! may your mother tongue, + Embellished by thy gift of song, + Be ever heard the clans among + While print is read-- + May future bards thy notes prolong + When thou art dead. + + Thus on and on, while cycles roll, + May Gaelic--language of the soul-- + Be heard in song from pole to pole, + From east to west, + Until the final tempests bowl + This earth to rest! + + Concluding--I would humbly ask + All hypocrites to shun the task + Of shooting from behind a mask + Their fellow men-- + And help us all to fling our flask + To Hinnom's glen! + + We've heard the loud, despairing moan + Of sinners, reaping what they've sown, + In midnight fields with thistles grown + Where devils glean. + Yet let the first to cast a stone + Himself be clean. + + No living mortal can invite + The gaze of creatures who delight + In showing spots upon the white + Which God hath gi'en. + Alas, alas, a little spite + Will find the stain. + + But who's to judge? The serpent's there, + In every breast that breathes the air, + Though some with skill and acting rare + His form conceal; + While others full to view must wear + The squirming eel! + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +Double quotation marks within double quotation marks were often used in +this text. + +Pages 9-10, Table of Contents, often the first line listed in the +contents does not match the first line of the actual poem. For example +on _The Fenian Raid_, the table of contents suggests it begins "From de +countrie of de Eagle" when in actuality, it begins "From de country of +de Yankee." This anamoly was retained. + +Page 9, "LABONNS" changed to "LABONNE'S" (JOHN LABONNE'S DREAM) + +Page 9, "someting" changed to "somet'ing" (write to me somet'ing) + +Page 10, THE HOLLERNZOLLERN'S PRAYER is listed in the text as "HOLY +WILLIE'S PRAYER Or THE HOLLERIN' HOHENZOLLERIN" + +Page 10, "devine" changed to "divine" (of "right divine") + +Page 10, "MacLEOD" changed to "McLEOD" (DONALD McLEOD) + +Page 35, "Jersualem" changed to "Jerusalem" (Jerusalem how hot) + +Page 37, "Hindenberg" changed to "Hindenburg" (He ordered Hindenburg) + +Page 44, the word "thot" was retained in the text as the transcriber +couldn't ascertain whether it was a mistake or meant as dialect. + +Page 66, "an't" changed to "Can't" (Can't you jus for one) + +Page 69, "Trudell" changed to "Trudel" (of me, Joseph Trudel) + +Page 83, "d e" changed to "de" (Of de U. S. at this tam) + +Page 106, the second to the last stanza of _The Lumberjack_ was indented +differently than the rest of the poem. It was arranged to match the +rest. The orignal looked like + + O, the lumberjack is loyal + And he'll surely see to it, + In the grind against the Kaiser + That each axe will "do its bit"; + +Page 119, "lands'end" changed to "lands' end" (to lands' end, too) + +Page 124, "magestic" changed to "majestic" (tall, majestic pine tree) + +Page 125, "elewhere" changed to "elsewhere" (elsewhere not in all) + +Page 130, "ALKILI" changed to "ALKALI" (THE ALKALI LAND) + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY TRENCH AND TRAIL IN SONG AND +STORY*** + + +******* This file should be named 37510.txt or 37510.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/5/1/37510 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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