on hees bed,
He say out loud lak a crazy man,
"I 'm sick of tryin' to clear dis lan',
Work any harder I can't stan',
Or it will kill me dead.

"Now if de devil would show hese'f
An' say to me, 'Tiens! Louis!
Hard tam an' work she 's at an' en',
You 'll leev' lak a Grand Seigneur ma frien',
If only you 'll be ready w'en
I want you to come wit' me.'

"I 'd say, 'Yass, yass--'maudit! w'at 's dat?'
An' he see de devil dere--
Brimstone, ev'ryt'ing bad dat smell,
You know right away he 's come from--well,
De place I never was care to tell--
An' wearin' hees long black hair,

Lak election man, de kin' I mean
You see aroun' church door,
Spreadin' hese'f on great beeg speech
'Bout poor man 's goin' some day be reech,
But dat 's w'ere it alway come de heetch,
For poor man 's alway poor.

De only diff'rence--me--I see
'Tween devil an' long-hair man
It 's hard to say, but I know it 's true,
W'en devil promise a t'ing to do
Dere 's no mistak', he kip it too--
I hope you understan'.

So de devil spik, "You 're not content,
An' want to be reech, Louis--
All right, you 'll have plaintee, never fear,
No wan can beat you far an' near,
An' I 'll leave you alone for t'orty year,
An' den you will come wit' me.

"Be careful now--it 's beeg contrac',
So mebbe it 's bes' go slow;
For me--de promise I mak' to you
Is good as de bank Riviere du Loup
For you--w'enever de tam is due,
Ba tonder! you got to go."

Louis try hard to tak' hees tam
But w'en he see de fall
Comin' along in a week or so,
All aroun' heem de rain an' snow
An' pork on de bar'l runnin' low,
He don't feel good at all.

An' w'en he t'ink of de swampy farm
An' gettin' up winter night,
Watchin' de stove if de win' get higher
For fear de chimley go on fire,
It's makin' poor Louis feel so tire
He tell de devil, "All right."

"Correct," dat feller say right away,
"I 'll only say, Au revoir,"
An' out of de winder he 's goin' pouf!
Beeg nose, long hair, short tail, an' hoof,
Off on de road to Bord a Plouffe
Crossin' de reever dere.

W'en Louis get up nex' day, ma frien',
Dere 's lot of devil sign--
Bar'l o' pork an' keg o' rye,
Bag o' potato ten foot high,
Pile o' wood nearly touch de sky,
Was some o' de t'ing he fin'.

Suit o' clothes would have cos' a lot
An' ev'ryt'ing I