Monsieur Joliat

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Boston she have good hockey team; Dose Senators ess nice.But Les Canadiens ees bes' Dat ever skate de ice.

Morenz he go lak' one beeg storm; Syl Mantha's strong and fat.Dere all ver." good, but none ees quite So good as Joliat.

I know heem well; he ees ma frien': I doan know heem himsel';But I know man dat know a man Who know heem very well.

Enfant! Dat Joliat ees full Of hevery kind of treek.He talk heem hockey all de day And sleep heem wit' hees stick.

He's small but he ees bothersome Lak' ceender in de eye.Maroons all yell: ."Go get som' 'Flit' And keel dat leetle fly.."

Garcon! he's slippery; oui, oui-- Lak' leetle piece of soap.I tink nex' time I watch dat boy I use a telescope.

He's good on poke-heem-check, he is: He's better on attack.He run against beeg Conacher And trow heem on hees back.

He weegle jus' lak' fish-worm do Wen eet ees on a hook;An' wen he pass de beeg defence Dey have one seely look.

He weigh one hondred feefty pound. Eef he were seex feet tallHe'd score one hondred goal so queek Dere'd be no game at all.

Wen I am tire of travais-trot I put on coat of coonAnd go to see Canadiens Mak' meence-meat of Maroon.

When Joliat skate out I yell Unteel I have a pain.I trow my hat up in de air And shout, ."Hurrah,." again.

."Shut up, Pea Soup,." an Englishman Sarcastic say to me;So I turn round to heem and yell: ."Shut up you Cup of Tea.."

Dat was a ver' exciting game: De score eet was a tie;An' den dat leetle Joliat Get hanger een hees eyes.

He tak' de puck at odder goal An' skat heem down so fas'De rest of players seem asleep As he was going pas'.

He was so queek he mak' dem look Jus' lak' a lot of clown.An' wen he shoot de wind from her Eet knock de hompire down.

Dat was de winning goal, hurrah; De game she come to end.I yell: ."Bravo for Joliat; You hear: he ees ma friend.."

De Henglishman he say: ."Pardon,." An' he tak' off hees hat:De Breetish Hempire steel ees safe Wen men can shoot lak' dat.."

An' den he say, ."Bravo,." as hard As Henglishman can whoop:."I tink to-night I'll change from tea To bally ole pea-soup.."

© MacDonald Wilson Pugsley