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Title: The Fox Hunt
Author: William Henry Drummond [
More Titles by Drummond]
I'm all bus' up, for a mont' or two,
On account of de wife I got,
Wit' de fuss an' troublesome t'ing she do,
She 's makin' me sick a lot;
An' I 'm sorry dat woman was go to school
For larnin' de way to read,
Her fader an' moder is great beeg fool
For geevin' her more she need!
'Cos now it 's a paper ev'ry week,
Dollar a year, no less--
Plaintee o' talkin' about musique,
An' tell you de way to dress;
Of course dat 's makin' her try to sing
An' dress, till it 's easy see
She 's goin' crazy about de t'ing
Dey 're callin'--Societee.
Las' week, no sooner I come along
From market of Bonsecour,
Dan I 'm seein' right off, dere 's somet'ing wrong,
For she 's stannin' outside de door
Smilin' so sweetly upon de face,
Lookin' so nice an' gay--
Anywan t'ink it 's purty sure case
She marry me yesterday.
Can't wait a minute till supper's t'roo
Before she commence to go--
"Oh! Johnnie, dere 's somet'ing I mus' tole you--
Somet'ing you lak to know--
To-morrow we 're goin' for drive aroun'
An' it won't be de heavy load,
Jus' me an' you, for to see dem houn'
T'row off on de Bord a Plouffe road."
"Denise, if dat was de grande affaire
On w'at you call a la mode--
Lookin' dem fox dog stannin' dere
T'row off on de Bord a Plouffe road,
You can count me out!" An' she start to cry--
"You know very well," she say,
"I don't mean dat--may I never die
But you 're a beeg fool to-day!
"Johnnie, to-morrow you 'll come wit' me
Watchin' dem run de race,
Ketchin' de fox--if you don't, you see
We 're bote on de beeg disgrace.
Dey 're all comin' out from de reever side,
An' over from Beaurepaire,
Seein' de folk from de city ride,
An' ev'rywan 's sure be dere."
All right--an' to-morrow dere's two new shoe,
So de leetle horse mak' de show,
Out wit' de buggy: de new wan too,
Only get her ten year ago--
An' dere on de road, you should see de gang
Of folk from aroun' de place,
Billy Dufresne, an' ole Champagne,
Comin' to see de race,
Wit' plaintee of stranger I never see,
An' some of dem from Pointe Claire,
All of dem bringin' de familee,
W'enever dere 's room to spare.
Wonderful sight--I 'm sure you say--
To see how Societee
(W'atever dat mean?) she got de way
Of foolin' de w'ole contree.
Den I 'm heetchin' de horse on de fence, for fear
Somebody run away,
So man wit' de bugle he 's comin' near,
An' dis is de t'ing he say--
"You see any fox to-day, ma frien',
Runnin' aroun' at all,
You know any place he got hees den?
For we lak it to mak' de call."
An' me--I tell heem, "You mus' be wrong,
An' surely don't want to kill
De leetle red fox, about two foot long,
Dat 's leevin' below de hill;
Jompin' de horse till he break hees knee,
Wile spotty dog mak' de row,
For a five-dollar fox? You can't fool me--
I know w'at you 're wantin' now!
"You hear de story of ole Belair,
He 's seein' de silver fox
W'enever he 's feeshin' de reever dere,
Sneakin' along de rocks."
But ma wife get madder I never see,
An' say, "Wall! you mus' be green--
Shut up right away," she 's tellin' me,
"It 's de leetle red fox he mean!"
So me--I say not'ing, but watch de fun---
An' spotty dog smell aroun'
Till dey start to yell, an' quick as a gun
Ev'rywan 's yellin', "Foun'!"
An' de way dey 're goin' across de fiel',
De lady in front, before,
Dunno, but I 'm willin' to bet good deal
Somebody mus' be sore!
Over de fence dey 're jompin' now,
Too busy for see de gate
Stannin' wide open, an' den dey plough
Along at a terrible rate;
All for de small red fox, dey say,
Only de leetle fox,
You 're buyin' for five dollar any day,
An' put heem on two-foot box.
I 'm foolish enough, but not lak dat--
Never lak dat at all,
Sam' as you see a crazy cat
Tryin' to climb de wall;
So I say to ma wife, I 'm satisfy
On ev'ryt'ing I was see,
But happy an' glad, until I die,
I 'm not on Societee!
Losin' a day on de fall 's no joke,
Dat 's w'at I 'm tellin' you,
Jus' for de pleasure of see dem folk
Dress up on de howdy do;
So I 'm sorry you go to school,
Larnin' de readin' dere--
Could do it mese'f, an' play de fool,
If money I got to spare.
But potatoes a dollar a bag,
An' easy to sell de load,
Watchin' de houn' to see heem wag
Hees tail, on de Bord a Plouffe road
Foolin' away w'en de market 's good
For seein' Societee
Chasin' de leetle fox t'roo de wood
Wit' crazy folk!--no siree!
[The end]
William Henry Drummond's poem: Fox Hunt
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