You 'll pass wit' me down below."

An' dis is de night of de year, Marie,
Bruno de hunter wake:
Soon as de great beeg tonder cloud
Up on de mountain 's roarin' loud--
He 'll come from hees grave w'ere de pine tree crowd
De shore of de leetle lake.

You see de lightning zig, zig, Marie,
Spittin' lak' loup cervier,[2]
Ketch on de trap? Oh! it won't be long
Till mebbe you lissen anoder song,
For de sky is dark an' de win' is strong,
An' de chase is n't far away.

W'y shiver so moche, Marie, ma femme,
For de log is burnin' bright?
Ah! dere she's goin', "Hulloo! Hulloo!"
An' oh! how de tonder is roarin' too!
But it can't drown de cry of de loup garou
On Bruno de hunter's night.

Over de mountain an' t'roo de swamp,
Don't matter how far or near,
Every place hees moccasin know
Bruno de hunter he 's got to go
'Fore de grave on de leetle lake below
Close up for anoder year.

But dey say de ole feller watch all night,
So you need n't be scare, Marie,
For he 'll never stir from de rocky cave
W'ere door only open beneat' de wave,
Till Bruno come back to hees lonely grave--
An' de devil he turn de key.

Dat 's way for punish de hunter man
W'en murder is on hees min'--
So he better stop w'ile de work is new,
Or mebbe de devil will ketch heem too,
An' chase heem aroun' wit' de loup garou
Gallopin' close behin'.

[1] Were wolf.

[2] Lynx.

[Illustration: Border]

PRIDE

Ma fader he spik to me long ago,
"Alphonse, it is better go leetle slow,
Don't put on de style if you can't afford,
But satisfy be wit' your bed an' board.
De bear wit' hees head too high alway,
Know not'ing at all till de trap go smash.
An' mooshrat dat 's swimmin' so proud to-day
Very often to-morrow is on de hash." [1]

Edouard de Seven of Angleterre,
An' few oder place beside,
He 's got de horse an' de carriage dere
W'enever he want to ride.
Wit' sojer in front to clear de way,
Sojer behin' all dress so gay,
Ev'rywan makin' de grand salaam,
An' plaintee o' ban' playin' all de tam

Edouard de Seven of Angleterre,
All he has got to do,
W'en he 's crossin' de sea, don't matter w'ere,
Is call for de ship an' crew.
Den hois' de anchor from down below,
Vive le Roi! an' away she go,
An' flag overhead, w'en dey see dat sight
W'ere is de nation don't be polite?