you hear de bugle blow,
For danger 's aroun', above, below,
But de bugle will tell if it 's tam to go."

An' de chil'ren yell, an' de checker-boar'
Don't do her no good at all--
An' nobody never jump before
Lak de crowd w'en dey hear de call,
Dat was de familee,--bet your life
I 'm prouder, ba Gosh! to-day
Mese'f, de leetle wan, an' de wife,
Dan anyt'ing I can say--

'Cos nobody strike on de way we do--
For home an' deir own contree--
Wit' fedder bed, stove, de cradle too,
An' ev'ryt'ing else we see--
Pilin' de wagon up ten foot high
Goin' along de road--
An' de Yankee say as we 're passin' by
Dey never see such a load--

So dat 's how we 're comin' to Yamachiche--
An' dat 's w'y we 're stayin' here--
Jus' to be quiet an' hunt an' feesh,
Not'ing at all to fear--
An' if ever you lissen de Yankee folk
Brag an' kick up de fuss--
An' say we 're lak cattle upon de yoke,
An' away dey can trot from us--

[Illustration: "Jus' tell dem de news of Gedeon Plouffe--
How he jump wit' de familee."]

Jus' tell dem de news of Gedeon Plouffe--
How he jump wit' de familee
An' strike w'en de bugle is raise de roof
For home an' hees own contree.

[Illustration: Flower]

[Illustration: Border]

Getting Stout

Eighteen, an' face lak de--w'at 's de good?
Dere 's no use tryin' explain
De way she 's lookin', dat girl Marie--
But affer it pass, de rain,
An' sun come out of de cloud behin',
An' laugh on de sky wance more--
Wall! dat is de way her eye it shine
W'en she see me upon de door.

An' dere she 's workin' de ole-tam sash,
De fines' wan, too, for sure.
"Who is it for, ma belle Marie--
You 're makin' de nice ceinture?
Come out an' sit on de shore below,
For watchin' dem draw de net,
Ketchin' de feesh," an' she answer, "No,
De job is n't finish yet;

"Stan' up, Narcisse, an' we 'll see de fit.
Dat sash it was mak' for you,
For de ole wan 's gettin' on, you know,
An' o' course it 'll never do
If de boy I marry can't go an' spen'
W'at dey 're callin' de weddin' tour
Wit' me, for visitin' all hees frien',
An' not have a nice ceinture."

An' den she measure dat sash on me,
An' I fin' it so long an' wide
I pass it aroun' her, an' dere we stan',
De two of us bote inside--
"Could n't be better, ma chere Marie,
D