p an' she's proud, an' you'll never count de crowd
Of de boy she geev it w'at dey call de conge.

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

Zepherin he try it too, an' he's workin' somet'ing new,
For he's makin' de old woman many presen'--
Prize package on de train, umbrella for de rain--
But she's grompy all de tam, an' never pleasan'.

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

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

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

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

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

Den he laugh, dat Zepherin, an' he say, "Your poor mama,
I know de pile she t'ink about her daughter
So we'll tak' de short road back on de corduroy race track;
Don't matter if we got to sweem de water."

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

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

But de girl she fin' it slow, so she ax de boy to go
Somet'ing better dan a mile on fifteen minute,
An' he's touch heem up, Guillaume; so dat horse he lay for home,
An' de nex