The
Wreck of the "Julie Plante"
A legend of Lac
St.Pierre
WH Drummond
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,'--
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.
Moral.
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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