los' hees life too,
All on account of de wife too,
An' I know you 'll be sorry 'bout dat poor feller,
I know you 'll be sorry for Joe Boucher.

So he kill hese'f dead, dat beau garcon
He work so hard for de familee,
An' he say, "Too bad, but Azeel-daw,
I 'm sorry she marry poor man lak me."
Now he 's los' hees life too,
All on account of hees wife too,
An' I know you 'll be sorry 'bout dat poor feller,
I know you 'll be sorry for Joe Boucher.

Now I know very well dat all poor man
He tak' some chance w'en he get marie,
So he better look out all de bes' he can,
Or he 'll be ketch lak Joe Boucher--
Now he 's los' hees life too,
All on account of de wife too,
An' I know you 'll be sorry 'bout dat poor feller,
I know you 'll be sorry for Joe Boucher.

[Illustration: Border]

Charmette

Away off back on de mountain-side,
Not easy t'ing fin' de spot,
W'ere de lake below is long an' wide,
A nice leetle place I got,
Mebbe ten foot deep by twenty-two,
An' if you see it, I bet
You 'll not be surprise w'en I tole to you
I chrissen dat place Charmette.

Dat 's purty beeg word, Charmette, for go
On poor leetle house so small,
Wit' only wan chimley, a winder or so,
An' no galerie at all--
But I want beeg word, so de worl' will know
W'at dat place it was mean to me,
An' dere on de book of Jean Jacques Rousseau,
Charmette is de nam' I see.

O ma dear Charmette! an' de stove is dere,
(Good stove) an' de wood-pile too.
An' stretch out your finger mos' anyw'ere,
Dere 's plaintee for comfort you--
You 're hongry? wall! you got pork an' bean,
Mak' you feel lak Edouard de King--
You 're torsty? Jus' look dere behin' de screen,
An' mebbe you fin' somet'ing--

Ha! Ha! you got it. Ma dear Charmette.
Dere 's many fine place, dat 's true,
If you travel aroun' de worl', but yet
W'ere is de place lak you?
Open de door, don't kip it close--
W'at 's air of de mornin' for?
Would you fassen de door on de win' dat blows
Over God's own boulevard?

You see dat lake? Wall! I alway hate
To brag--but she 's full of trout,
So full dey can't jump togeder, but wait
An' tak' deir chance, turn about--
An' if you be campin' up dere above,
De mountain would be so high,
Very offen de camp you 'd have to move,
Or how can de moon pass by?

[Illustration: "You