No smarter man you can never know
W'en I was a boy, dan Pierre Nadeau,
An' quiet he's too, very seldom talk,
But got an eye lak de mountain hawk,
See all aroun' heem mos' ev'ryw'ere,
An' not many folk is foolin' Pierre.
Offen I use to be t'inkin'--me--
How on de worl' it was come to be
He know so moche, w'en he never go
On college or school, ole Pierre Nadeau,
Feesh on de reever de summer t'roo,
An' trap on de winter--dats all he do.
"Hi! boy--Hi! put your book away,
An' come wit' your uncle Pierre to-day,
Ketch hol' of de line an' hang on tight,
An' see if your moder won't cook to-night
Some nice fresh feesh for de familee,"
Many a tam he was say to me--
An' den Im quiet, too scare to spik,
Wile Pierre he paddle me down de crick,
Easy an' nice he mak' her go
Close to de shore w'ere de bulrush grow,
W'ere de pike an' de beeg feesh lak to feed,
Deir nose stickin' out w'ere you see de weed--
"Lissen, ma boy," say Pierre Nadeau,
"To some of de t'ing you ought to know:
Kip a lookout on de hook an' line,
In case dey 're gettin' too far behin';
For its purty hard job know w'at to do,
If de reever weeds ketchin' hol' of you.
"But if you want feesh, you mus' kip leetle close,
For dats w'ere de beeg feller come de mos',
Not on de middle w'ere waters bare,
But near to de rushes over dere,
'Cos dat was de spot dey alway feed--
All de sam' you got to look out for weed.
"Ho! Ho! a strike! let heem have it now--
Gosh! ain't he a'kickin' heem up de row,
Pullin' so hard, never min', ma son,
W'en he go lak dat he was nearly done,
But hes all right now, so don't be afraid,
Jus' hit heem again wit' de paddle blade.
"Yass! over an' over, its good advice,
An' me, I know, for I pay de price
On w'at you call compoun' interes' too,
For larnin' de lesson I geev' to you,
Close as you lak, but, ma boy, tak' heed
You don't run into de beeg long weed.
"An' by an' by w'en you 're growin' up,
An' mebbe drink of de black, black cup
Of trouble an' bodder an' dunno w'at,
Youll say to you'se'f, 'Wall! I forgot
De lesson ole Pierre he know I need,'
W'en he say to me, 'Boy, look out for weed'--
"For de worls de sam' as de reever dere,
Plaintee of weed lyin' ev'ryw'ere,
But work aroun' or your life is gone,
An' tak' some chance or you won't get on,
For if you don't feesh w'ere de weed is grow,
Youll only ketch small leetle wan or so--
"Deres no use sayin', 'Ill wait an' see
If some of dem feesh don't come to me,
Ill stay outside, for its pleasan' here,
W'ere de waters lookin' so nice an' clear,'
Dats way youll never get w'at you need--
Keep feeshin' away, but look out for weed."
* * * *
Dat was de lesson ole Pierre Nadeau
Tell to me offen, so long ago--
Poor ole Pierre! an' Im tryin' too,
Tak' hees advice, for I know its true,
But far as it goes were all de same breed,
An' its not so easy kip out de weed.
