The dance at Joe Chevalier, and other poems . De Spring Call of de Loon I AS spring, I am down on de mash, An de souwes win was blow,An de voices out in de moonlightWas singin sof an low. De raindrops patter gently,An I tink I am gettin hoi,An I go to de door an lissen,An de win blow warm, den cold, 1!) De Spring Call of de Loon. An de mallards, dey was callin,An de widgeon whistle, too,Do de soun is hoi lak de mash,In de Spring- dey is always new. An den I go back to de fire,An am halmos go to sleep,When a soun come over de mashDat mek my pulses leap. I jomp to my feet an lissen,Wid de echo i
The dance at Joe Chevalier, and other poems . De Spring Call of de Loon I AS spring, I am down on de mash, An de souwes win was blow,An de voices out in de moonlightWas singin sof an low. De raindrops patter gently,An I tink I am gettin hoi,An I go to de door an lissen,An de win blow warm, den cold, 1!) De Spring Call of de Loon. An de mallards, dey was callin,An de widgeon whistle, too,Do de soun is hoi lak de mash,In de Spring- dey is always new. An den I go back to de fire,An am halmos go to sleep,When a soun come over de mashDat mek my pulses leap. I jomp to my feet an lissen,Wid de echo in my ear,For dat was a soun I didn hearFor more dan forty year. An den I hear dat call again, Out under de quiet moon, An it ring true as my mudders voice; De Spring call of de loon. Dats why I know dat calls for me,An I anser, loud an clear:20. \ De Spring Callof de Loon. *!m comin, my God, Im comin!Lak I honly had twenty year. An quick as de dive of de mushrat,Im on de ol trail once more,Jes out of our camp on Cedar Lac,In de Spring time of forty-four. Dey was me an Gabrielle Bonvouloir,We are loaded down wid fur,He is mon bon cameradeAn a firs-rate voyageur. An de pines dey was singing dere chanson, An dat seem good to me; An de lacs is strung on de river Lak de beads on my rosarie. Deres de Lac of Pine, an Burnt Lac,White Trout, an de Otter Slide,Jeffs Lac, an de two Joe Lac,Jes layin side by De Spring Call of de Loon. But de bes of all is Canoe Lac,Asleep in her robe of mis,An over de dark of de pinesBy de Nordern Light is kiss. But we didn stop at Canoe Lac,We was fill wid de Spring an de night;An soon were on de river,In an out of de sof moonlight. An we was singin La Jeune Sophie,Jes loud lak we could crack,An de pines on each side de river,Dey was doubly pay us back. But above de soun of de singin,Is de roar
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, bookiddanceatjoech, bookyear1904
