The Corduroy Road

De corduroy road go bompety bomp, De corduroy road go jompety jomp, An' he' s takin'beeg chances upset hees load De horse dat 'll trot on de corduroy road. Of course it's purty rough, but it's handy t'ing enough An' dey mak' it wit' de log all jine togeder W'en deystrek de swampy groun' w' ere de Water hang aroun' Or passin'by some tough ole beaver medder. But it' s not macadamize, so if you're only wise You will tak' your tam an' never min' de worry For de corduroy is bad, an' will mak' you plaintee mad By de way de buggy jomp, in case you hurry. An' I' m sure you don't expec' leetle Victorine Leveque She was knowin' moche at all about dem places, 'Cos she's never dere before, till young Zephirin Madore He was takin' her away for see de races. O, I wish you see her den, dat's before she marry, w' en She's de fines' on de lan' but no use talkin' I can bet you w'at you lak, if you meet her you look back Jus' to watch de fancy way dat girl is walkin'. Yass de leetle Victorine was de nices' girl between De town of Yamachiche an' Maskinong, But she's stuck up an' she's proud, an' you 'll never count de crowd Of de boy she geev' it w'at dey call de cong. Ah! De moder spoil her sure, for even Joe D'Amour W'en he's ready nearly ev'ry t'ing to geev her If she mak' de marie, only say,    "please go away" An'    he's riches habitant along de reever. Zephirin he try it too, an' he's workin' some- t'ing new For he's    makin' de ole woman many presen' Prize package on de train, umbrella for de rain But she' s grompy all de tam, an' never pleasan'. Wall, w'en he ax Ma-dame tak' de girl away dat tam See dem races on Sorel wit'    all de trotter De moder say    "All right if you bring her home to-night Before de cow'smilk, I let go, ma daughter." So Victorin she go wit' Zephirin her beau On de yankee buggy mak' it on St. Bruno An' w'en dey pass hotel on de middle of Sorel Dey're puttin' on de beeges' style dat you know. Wall! dey got some good horse dere, but Zephirin don't care He's back it up hees own paroisse, ba golly, An' he mak' it t'ree doll-arr w'en Maskinong Star On de two mile heat was beatin' Sorel Molly. Victorin don't min' at all, till de    "free for all"    dey call Dat's de las'    race dey was run before de snow fly Den she say    "I t'ink de cow mus'be getting' home soon now An' you know it's only clock ole woman go by. An' if    we're comin'late w'en de cow pass on de gate You'll be sorry if you hear de way she talk dere, So w'en I see de race on Sorel or any place After dis, you may be sure I got to walk dere." Den he laugh dat Zephirin, an' he say    "Your poor mama I know de pile she t'ink about her daughter So we'll tak' de sshort road back on de cor- duroy race track Don't matter if we got to sweem de water." No wonder he is smile till you hear heem half a mile For    dat morning he was tole hees leetle broder Let de cattle out de gate, so he know it's purty late By de tam dem cow was findin' out each oder. So along de corduroy de young girl an' de boy Dey was kipin' up a joggin' nice an' steady It is n't heavy load,    an' Guillaume he know de road For many tam he's been dat way already. But de girl she fin' it slow, so she ax de boy to go Somet'ing better dan a mile on fifteen minute An' he's touch heem up Guillaume; so dat horse he lay for home an' de nex' t'ing Victorine she know she's in it. "O, pull him in, "she yell, "for even on Sorel I am sure I never see de quicker racer," But it's leetle bit too late, for de horse is get hees gait an' de worse of all ba gosh! Guillaume's a pacer. See hees tail upon de air, no wonder she was scare But she hang on lak de winter on T'ree Reever Cryin' out- "please hol' me tight, or I'm comin'dead to-night An' ma poor ole moder dear, I got to leave her." Wit'her arm aroun' hees wais': she was doin' it in case She bus'her head, or keel herse'f, it's not so easy sayin' Dey was comin' on de jomp t'roo dat dam ole beaver swamp An' meet de crowd is lookin' for dem cow was go a-stayin'. Den she's cryin', Victorine, for she's knowin' w'at it mean De parish dey was talkin' firse chances dey be gettin', But no sooner dat young man stop de horse, he tak' her han' An' w'isper "never min', ma chere, won't do no good a-frettin'." Non! she is n't cryin' long, for he tole her it was wrong She 's sure he save her life too, or she was moche mistaken, An' de ole Ma-dame Leveque also kiss heem, on de neck An'quickly affer dat Hooraw! de man an' wife dey're makin'.