Funny t'ing too, he is ketch also,

But dey 're all lak de familee Baribeau—

 Growin' up purty de sam' de moder— An' soon as dey know it along de shore De boys stop comin', an' never bodder For snub de raf' on ma place no more— 

An' soon as dey know it along de shore

For snub de raf' on ma place no more—

 So w'at is de chance ma girl she 's gettin', Don't care w'ere I look, none at all I see, No use, I s'pose, kipin' on a-frettin', Dough it's very hard case poor man lak me. 

Don't care w'ere I look, none at all I see,

Dough it's very hard case poor man lak me.

 W'at 'll I do for bring dem here,—me? Can't be blowin' dem to de moon— Or buil' a dam on de reever near me For fear we 're sure to be drownin' soon. 

Can't be blowin' dem to de moon—

For fear we 're sure to be drownin' soon.

 To-night I can hear hees darn ole fiddle, Playin' away on Joe Belair— Can hear heem holler, "Pass down de middle An' dance on your partner over dere." 

Playin' away on Joe Belair—

An' dance on your partner over dere."

 

 "To-night I can hear hees darn ole fiddle, Playin' away on Joe Belair." 

 Pleasan' t'ing too, for to smell de w'isky Off on de leetle back room—bâ oui— Helpin' de ole folk mak' dem frisky, Very pleasan' for dem, but not for me— 

Off on de leetle back room—bâ oui—

Very pleasan' for dem, but not for me—

 Oh! it mak' me mad, an' I 'm tire tryin' To show how I feel, an' it 's hard to tell— So I 'll geev' it up, for dere 's no good cryin'; 'Sides w'at is de use of a two-mile smell? 

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