By Trench and Trail in Song and Story Part 6

THE GRIPPE

To see us now, deceivers Would say this land of beavers Was full of fitful fevers And other chills.

On all the pa.s.sing breezes There's nothing heard but wheezes, With hacking coughs and sneezes, And other ills.

The bear, that northern prowler, The 'Oonalaska howler, And every other growler We read about, With us have caught the churning Whose cause is past discerning, The demon that is turning Us inside out.

The monster's exultation Is heard throughout the nation, He stops at every station To spread himself; And no one can avoid him, 'Tis useless to deride him, Impossible to hide him Upon a shelf.

Whence come those sudden changes, With all their train of twinges, Grim foes of health that hinges On atmosphere?

There surely is a reason For this fantastic season, That sets the world a sneezin'

About us here.

This "rushing" influenza, Just taken for a mensa, Most certainly will cleanse a'

Your system, man.

It has the knack to stick, too-- 'Twould surely turn "Old Nick" blue And draw his toenails quick through His diaphragm.

No power can avail, man, To drive him from the trail, man; The patent drugs for sale man, Can never cure.

He comes against your will, man, And sneaks around to kill, man; The rippling of his rill, man, Is never pure.

It droppeth like the rain, man, Extracted by the pain, man, And driveth one insane, man, To think of it.

It robs us of our food, man, And freezes up our blood, man-- And sleep! Nary a nod, man, Or wink of it.

The old world it's been tearing-- Now we must have a hearing; It crossed the strait of Behring-- Yes, bound to win.

Ah! now it overtakes me, The shivering that shakes me Is one that surely makes the Whole world akin.

Across from coast to coast, sir, You wander like a ghost, sir; Every one can boast(?), sir, Of having you.

You strike at high and lowly, The wicked and the holy, The poor, and they who roll thee, Fifth avenue!

No doubt our friend bold "Fairman", And also John his chairman, Are pulling out their hair (?), man, And looking wild.

If influenza has them, My writing will not please them; So, Oscar, pray don't tease them Or get them riled.

Gu'tchew! gu'tchew! gu'tchew! man; "Good day, mar ha u diugh, man; 'Sda chuin [B]neanaib na shruth, man, Le-uiske beatha."

That's what I hear around me Wherever Celtic sound be, And also, O confound thee, America!

FOOTNOTE:

[Footnote B: Water spring.]

TRUDEL'S TRAVELS

Joe

Said Joe, "I mus' go w'ere de win' she don' blow For six mont' in de year, wit' its mout' full of snow: W'ere t'ermom' at de door don' sink down to de floor, Yes, to 40 degree below razo, or so.

"W'ere de breeze mak' you sneeze, an' de pump-handle freeze, An' de snow she is go up above to you' knees, Is no place for me Joe, so I'm t'ink I will go Lak de Hun to de sun, wit' ma wife an' Louise.

"I got pos' car' today from Eugene, an' he say To sell out on de farm, an' go down rat away To Lowh.e.l.l on de mill w'ere I earn de green bill, An' de Merri-mac sing, tra la ling, all de day."

Marie

But Marie said, "Oui, I am not jus' agree Wit' de plan dat you han' for dat gran' beeg movie; If you start for de State jus' be sure not be late: I will stay rat at home till you come, don' you see?

"So skedad," she is yell, "an' go down to Lowh.e.l.l, W'ere de snow she don' blow and no ice clog de well!

I will freeze if I please, or go sout' wit' de geese, An' live 'long wit' ma niece in 'at ol' Lennoxvell."

Joe

"Yes, ma dear, I can hear, if you don' spik so clear, An' break in lak a bomb on de drom of ma ear; You may fly wit' you' niece an' go live wit' de geese, If you promise to write in you' flight once a year.

"She is give me one glance an' at once I can see It's more safer in France den at Lampton for me; In her face it is war an' I notice, by gar, It's more cold in her eye den de 60 degree!

"An' Marie, is she froit? Not to notice it yet!

For she scream till she steam an' she steam till she's wet; An' I notice once more as she stamp on de floor: She is build on de line of de fin' suffragette!

"Ah! So cold lak de pump, or de frost on de stump, An' her beautiful back is rise up in de hump; Quick I mak' up my min' w'en I look on dat sign, It is jus' 'bout de tam for me Joe mak' a jomp!

"In de quarr'l of a fam' don' it sure beat de ban'

How de neighbors b.u.t.t in, jus' lak one of de clan-- If ol' Liz' an' her phiz would kip out of my biz', It is sure not be half de divorce in de lan'.

"Did I jomp? Well, I'm not geeve it secrets away Dat's between man an' wife an' de pump any day, But Marie w'en she's woun', tak's some tam to run down, An' before she collapse she me raps in dis way:"

Marie

"I am born for to toil, I am tie to de soil, An' you t'ink it's enough if for once in a while I can ride to Shalbrooke, wit' cheval dat you took From de crows in de spring, jus' to show it my style!

"Lak de queen I am feel wit' no grease on de wheel, An' t'ree pigs in a box nottings lef' but de squeal!

Wit' his snout stick it out through de slat lake a spout-- An' his body come too but got knot on de tail!

"An' I know I am show lak de scare of de crow, W'en down Wellington street to de market we go; An' garson in bare feet--all de blaggard I meet Mak' me squirm lak de worm from ma head to de toe.

"O ge whizz I am proud w'en we come on de crowd, An' damfool out of school, he is laugh it out loud; But de glory to G.o.d w'en I t'ink of de load An' de boneyard dat carry it over de road, An' de squeak of de gig, and de squeal of de pig, I don' blame it for laugh w'en he look at de rig!

"'Ha! ha!' he is cry, 'hope to die, how you feel?

Ain't it tam to give pig in dat box some more meal?

You' horse it's too fat lak de edge of de slat; Not 'nuff grease in de pig for to put on de wheel!

W'at you tak' it in cash for you' automosqueal?'"

"Dat's de cry dat I hear on de top of ma ear W'en Marie, dat is me, an' her chariot appear.