"W'at's dat? de ole man gone, you say?
Wall! Wall! he mus' be sick,
For w'en he pass de oder day,
He walk along widout de stick,
Lak twenty year or so--
Fine healt'y man, ole Telesphore,
I never see heem sick before,
Some rheumateez, but not'ing more--
Please tell me how he go."
You 're right, no common t'ing for sure
Is kill heem lak de res';
No sir! de man was voyageur
Upon de Grande Nor' Wes'
Until he settle here
Is not de fellers goin' die
Before hes ready by an' bye,
So if you want de reason w'y
Ill tell you, never fear.
You know how moche he lak to spik
An' tole us ev'ryt'ing about
De way de French can alway lick
An' pull de w'ole worl' inside out,
Poor Telesphore Cadotte!
Hes knowin' all de victory,
An' braves' t'ing was never be,
To hear heem talk, its easy see
Hes firse-class patriot.
Hees leetle shoe store ev'ry night
Can hardly hol' de crowd of folk
Dat come to lissen on de fight,
An' w'en you see de pile of smoke
An' hear ole Telesphore
Hammer de boot upon hees knee,
You t'ink of course of Chateauguay,
An' feel dats two, t'ree enemy
Don't bodder us no more.
But oh! dat evening w'en he sen'
De call aroun' for come en masse,
An' den he say, "Ma dear ole frien',
Deres somet'ing funny come to pass,
I lak you all to hear--
You know dat Waterloo affair?
H-s-s-h! don't get excite, you was n't dere--
All quiet? Wall! Ill mak' it square,
So lissen on your ear.
"Im readin' on de book to-day
(Some book, dey say, was guarantee),
An' half a dollar too I pay,
But cheap, because its tellin' me
De t'ing Im glad to know--
Of course de w'ole worl' understan'
Napoleon fight de bes' he can,
But hes not French at all, dat man,
But leetle small Da-go.
"Anoder t'ing was mak' it show
Deres not'ing new below de sun,
Is w'en Im findin' as I go--
Dat feller dey call Welling-ton,
Hes English? No siree!
But only maudit Irlandais!
(Dats right! dey 're alway in de way,
Dem Irish folk), an' so I say
Im satisfy for me.
"Its not our fault, dats all explain--
Deres no use talk of Waterloo,
Not our affair--" an' off again
He hammer, hammer on de shoe,
An' don't say not'ing more,
But w'issle "Madame Isabeau,"
Good news lak dat is cheer heem so--
Den tak' a drink before we go,
De poor ole Telesphore!
An' now hes gone! Wall! I dunno,
Can't say--hes better off meb-be,
Don't work so hard on w'ere he go--
Dats wan t'ing sure Im t'inkin'--me--
Unless he los' hees track.
But w'en dat boy come runnin' in
De leetle shop, an' start begin
On Poirier's rooster, how he win--
I lak to break hees back.
Poor Telesphore was tellin' how
Joe Monferrand can't go to sleep,
Until hes kickin' up de row,
Den pile dem nearly ten foot deep,
Dem English sojer man--
Can't blame de crowd dey all hooraw,
For bes' man on de Ottawaw,
An' geev' t'ree cheer for Canadaw,
De very bes' dey can.
An' Telesphore again he start
For tell de story leetle more,
Anoder wan before we part,
W'en bang! a small boy t'roo de door
On w'at you call "full pelt,"
Is yellin' till it reach de skies,
"Poirier's rooster got de prize,
Poirier's rooster got de prize,
An' win de Champion belt!"
An' sure enough, he beat dem all,
Joe Poirier's leetle red game bird,
On beeges' show dey have dis fall,--
De Yankee rooster only t'ird
An' Irish number two--
We hear a jump, an' Telesphore--
I never see de lak before--
He flap hees wing upon de floor
An' cock a doodle doo!
Dats finish heem, hes gone at las',
An' never come aroun' again--
Well miss heem w'en were goin' pas',
An' see no light upon de pane--
But pleasure we have got,
Well kip it on de memory yet,
An' dough of course well offen fret,
Deres wan t'ing sure, well not forget
Poor Telesphore Cadotte!
