The
Wreck of the "Julie Plante"
A legend of Lac St.Pierre
WH Drummond
On wan dark night on Lac St.
Pierre,
De win' she
blow, blow, blow,
An' de crew
of de wood scow "Julie Plante"
Got scar't
an' run below--
For de win'
she blow lak hurricane
Bimeby she
blow some more,
An' de scow
bus' up on Lac St. Pierre
Wan arpent
from de shore.
De captinne
walk on de fronte deck,
An' walk de
hin' deck too--
He call de
crew from up de hole
He call de
cook also.
De cook
she's name was Rosie,
She come
from Montreal,
Was chambre
maid on lumber barge,
On de Grande
Lachine Canal.
De win' she
blow from nor'-eas'-wes,'--
De sout'
win' she blow too,
W'en Rosie
cry "Mon cher captinne,
Mon cher,
w'at I shall do?"
Den de
Captinne t'row de big ankerre,
But still
the scow she dreef,
De crew he
can't pass on de shore,
Becos' he
los' hees skeef.
De night was
dark lak' wan black cat,
De wave run
high an' fas',
W'en de
captinne tak' de Rosie girl
An' tie her
to de mas'.
Den he also
tak' de life preserve,
An' jomp off
on de lak',
An' say,
"Good-bye, ma Rosie dear,
I go drown
for your sak'."
Nex' morning
very early
'Bout
ha'f-pas' two--t'ree--four--
De
captinne--scow--an' de poor Rosie
Was corpses
on de shore,
For de win'
she blow lak' hurricane
Bimeby she
blow some more,
An' de scow
bus' up on Lac St. Pierre,
Wan arpent
from de shore.
Moral.
Now all good
wood scow sailor man
Tak' warning
by dat storm
An' go an'
marry some nice French girl
An' leev on
wan beeg farm.
De win' can
blow lak' hurricane
An' s'pose
she blow some more,
You can't
get drown on Lac St. Pierre
So long you
stay on shore.
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