Mon Frere Camille

By William Henry Drummond

Mon frere Camille he was first class blood

    W'en he come off de State las' fall,

Wearin' hees boot a la mode box toe

An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also

Sam' as dem feller on Chi-caw-go;

  But now he 's no blood at all,

                                        Camille, mon frere.

W'at 's makin' dat change on mon frere

    Camille?

  Wall!  lissen for minute or two,

An' I 'll try feex it up on de leetle song

Dat 's geevin' some chance kin' o' help it

     along

So wedder I'm right or wedder I'm wrong

  You 'll know all about heem w'en I get

    t'roo,

                                        Mon frere Camille.

He never sen' leter for t' orteen year

  So of course he mus' be all right

Till telegraph 's comin' from Kan-Ka-Kee

"I 'm leffin' dis place on de half pas't'ree

W'at you want to bring is de beg' buggee

  An' double team sure for me t' orsday night

                                        Ton frere Camille."

I wish you be dere w'en Camille arrive

  I bet you will say "W'at 's dat?"

For he 's got leetle cap very lak tuque bleu

Ole habitant 's wearin' in bed, dat's true,

An' w'at do you t'ink he carry too?

  Geev it up? Wall! small valise wit' de fine

    plug hat.

                                        Mon frere Camille.

"Very strange." I know you will say right off,

  For dere 's not'ing wrong wit' hees clothes,

An' he put on style all de bes' he can

Wit' diamon' shinin' across hees han'

An' de way he's talkin' lak Yankee man

  Mus' be purty hard on hees nose,

                                       Mon frere Camille.

But he 's splain all dat about funny cap,

  An' tole us de reason w'y,

It seem no feller can travel far,

An' specially too on de Pullman car,

'Less dey wear leetle cap only 'cos dollarre,

  Dat 's true if he never die,

                                      Mon frere Camille.

Don't look very strong dem fancy boot

  But he 's splain all dat also

He say paten' ledder she 's nice an' gay

You don't need to polish dem ev'ry day,

Besides he 's too busy for dat alway,

  W'en he's leevin' on Chi-caw-go,

                                      Mon frere Camille.

But de State she was n't  de only place

  He visit all up an' down,

For he's goin' Cu-baw an' de Mex-i-co,

W'ere he 's killin' two honder dem wil' taureau,

W'at you call de bull: on de circus show,

  O! if you believe heem he travel roun'.

                                      Mon frere Camille.

So of course w'en ma broder was gettin' home

  All de peop' on de parish come

Every night on de parlor for hear heem tell

How he foller de brave General Roosvel'

W'en rough rider feller dey fight lak hell

  An' he walk on de front wit' great beg

    drum,

                                       Mon frere Camille.

An' how is he gainin' dat diamon' ring?

  Way off on de Mex-i-co

W'ere he 's pilin' de bull wan summer day

Till  it 's not easy haulin' dem all away,

An' de lady dey 're t'rowin' heem large

    bouquet  

For dey lak de style he was keel taureau,

                                        Mon frere Camille.

Wall!  he talk dat way all de winter t'roo,

  An' hees frien' dey was tryin' fin'

Some bull on de country dat 's wil' enough

For mon frere camille, but it 's purty tough

'Cos de farmer 's not raisin' such fightin' stuff

  An' he don't want not'ing but mos' worse

    kin'

                                        Mon frere Camille.

Dat 'd not pleasan' t'ing mebbe los' hees trade,

  If we don't hurry up, for sure,

I s'pose you t'ink I was goin' it strong?

Never min' , somet'ing happen  'fore very long

It 'll all come out on dis leetle song

  W'en he pass on de house of Ma-dame

    Latour

                                        Camille, mon frere.

We 're makin' pique-nique on Denise Latour

  For helpin' put in de hay

Too bad she 's de moder large familee

An' los' de bes' husban' she never see

W'en he drown on de reever, poor Jeremie,

  So he come wit' de res' of de gang dat day,

                                        Camille, mon frere.

An' affer de hay it was put away

  Don't tak' very long at all,

De boy an' de girl  she was lookin' 'roun

For havin' more fun 'fore dey lef' de groun'

An' dey see leetle bull, mebbe t'ree honder

    poun'

  An' nex' t'ing I hear dem call

                                        Mon frere Camille.

So nice leetle feller I never see

  Dat bull of Ma-dame Latour

Wit' curly hair on de front hees head

An' quiet? jus' sam' he was almos' dead

An' fat? wall!  de chil'ren  dey see heem fed

  So he 's not goin' keel heem I 'm very sure,

                                       Mon frere Camille.

But de girl kip teasin' an' ole Ma-dame

  She say, "You can go ahead

He cos' me four dollarre six mont' ago

So if anyt'ing happen ma small taureau,

Who 's pay me dat monee I lak to know?"

  An' he answer, "Dat 's me w'en I keel

    heem dead"

                                        Mon frere Camille.

Den he feex beeg knife on de twelve foot pole,

  So de chil'ren  commence to cry

An' he jomp on de fence, an' yell, "Hooraw"

An' shout on de leetle French bull,  "Dis donc!

Ain't  you scare w'en you see feller from Cu-

    baw?"

  An' he show  heem hees red necktie,

                                        Mon frere Camille.

L'petit taureau w'en he see dat tie

  He holler for half a mile

Den he jomp on de leg an' he raise de row

Ba Golly! I'm sure I can see heem now.

An' dey run w'en dey hear heem, de noder

    cow

  Den he say, "Dat bull must be surely wil'"

                                        Mon frere Camille.

But de bull don't care w'at he say at all,

  For he 's watchin' dat red necktie

An' w'en ma broder he push de pole

I 'm sure it 's makin' some purty large hole,

If de bull be dere, but ma blood run col'

  For de nex' t'ing I hear heem cry,

                                         Camille, mon frere.

No wonder he cry, for dat sapree bull

  He 's yell leetle bit some more,

Den he ketch ma broder dat small taureau

Only cos' four dollarre six mont' ago

An' he 's t'rowin' heem up from de groun'

    below

  Wan tam, two tam, till he 's feelin' sore,

                                         Camille, mon frere.

An' w'en ma broder 's come down agen

  I s'pose he mus' change hees min'

An' mebbe t'ink if it 's all de sam'

He 'll keel dat bull w'en he get more tam

For dere he was runnin' wit' ole Ma-dame

  De chil'ren, de bull,  an' de cow  behin'

                                          Camille, mon frere.

So dat's de reason  he 's firse class blood

  W'en he come off de State las' fall

Wearin' hees boot a la mode bo toe

An' diamon' pin on hees shirt also

Sam' as dem  feller on Chi-caw-go

  But now he 's no blood at all,

                                           Camille, mon frere.