Out on de snow an' wet

Den how can it fit me yet?

W'enever you go to town;

For makin' you stan' aroun'."

 But me, I 'm sure it was never change, Dat sash on de feefty year— An' I can't understan' to-day at all, W'at 's makin' it seem so queer— De sash is de sam', an' woman too, Can't fool me, I know too well— But woman, of course dey offen do Some funny t'ing—you can't tell! 

Dat sash on de feefty year—

W'at 's makin' it seem so queer—

Can't fool me, I know too well—

Some funny t'ing—you can't tell!

 

 

 

 Doctor Hilaire 

 A stranger might say if he see heem drink till he almos' fall, "Doctor lak dat for sick folk, he 's never no use at all," But wait till you hear de story dey 're tellin' about heem yet, An' see if you don't hear somet'ing, mebbe you won't forget. 

 Twenty odd year she 's marry, Belzemire Lafreniere, An' oh! but she 's feelin' lonesome 'cos never a sign is dere— Purty long tam for waitin', but poor leetle Belzemire She 's bad enough now for pay up all of dem twenty year. 

 Call heem de oldes' doctor, call heem de younges' wan, Bring dem along, no matter if ev'ry dollar 's gone— T'ree of dem can't do not'ing, workin' for two days dere, She was a very sick woman, Belzemire Lafreniere. 

 Pierre he was cryin', cryin' out on de barn behin', Neighbors tryin' to kip heem goin' right off hees min', W'en somebody say, "Las' winter, ma wife she is nearly go, An' who do you t'ink is save her? ev'ry wan surely know. 

 "Drink? does he drink de w'isky? don't care I 'm hees only frien', Dere 's only wan answer comin'. Wall! leetle bit now an' den Doctor Hilaire he tak' it, but 

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