Poem of the day

The Wreck of the Julie Plante
by William Henry Drummond (1854-1907)

On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre,
      De win’ she blow, blow, blow,
An’ de crew of de wood scow “Julie Plante”
      Got scar’t an’ run below—
For de win’ she blow lak hurricane
      Bimeby she blow some more,
An’ de scow bus’ up on Lac St. Pierre
      Wan arpent from de shore.

De captinne walk on de fronte deck,
      An’ walk de hin’ deck too–
He call de crew from up de hole
      He call de cook also.
De cook she’s name was Rosie,
      She come from Montreal,
Was chambre maid on lumber barge,
      On de Grande Lachine Canal.

De win’ she blow from nor’-eas’-wes,’—a
      De sout’ win’ she blow too,
W’en Rosie cry “Mon cher captinne,
      Mon cher, w’at I shall do?”
Den de Captinne t’row de big ankerre,
      But still the scow she dreef,
De crew he can’t pass on de shore,
      Becos’ he los’ hees skeef.

De night was dark lak’ wan black cat,
      De wave run high an’ fas’,
W’en de captinne tak’ de Rosie girl
      An’ tie her to de mas’.
Den he also tak’ de life preserve,
      An’ jomp off on de lak’,
An’ say, “Good-bye, ma Rosie dear,
      I go drown for your sak’.”

Nex’ morning very early
      ’Bout ha’f-pas’ two–t’ree–four–
De captinne–scow–an’ de poor Rosie
      Was corpses on de shore,
For de win’ she blow lak’ hurricane
      Bimeby she blow some more,
An’ de scow bus’ up on Lac St. Pierre,
      Wan arpent from de shore.


Now all good wood scow sailor man
      Tak’ warning by dat storm
An’ go an’ marry some nice French girl
      An’ leev on wan beeg farm.
De win’ can blow lak’ hurricane
      An’ s’pose she blow some more,
You can’t get drown on Lac St. Pierre
      So long you stay on shore.

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