The Windigo

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Go easy wit' de paddle, an' steady wit' de
  oar
 Geev rudder to de bes' man  you got among
  de crew,
Let ev'ry wan be quiet, don't let dem sing no
  more
 W'en you see de islan' risin' out of Grande
  Lac Manitou
Above us on de sky dere, de summer cloud
  may float
 Aroun' us on de water de ripple never show,
But somet'ing down below us can rock de
  stronges' boat,
 W'en we 're comin' near de islan' of de
  spirit Windigo!

De carcajou may breed dere,  an' otter sweem
  de poole
 De moosh-rat mak' de mud house, an' beaver
  buil' hees dam
An' beeges' Injun hunter on all de Tête de
  Boule
 Will never set hees trap dere from spring
  to summer tam.

But he 'll  bring de fines' presen' from upper
  St. Maurice
 De loup marin an' black-fox from off de
  Hodson Bay
An' hide dem on de islan' an' smoke de pipe
  of peace
 So Windigo will help heem w'en he travel
  far away.

We shaintee on dat islan' on de winter seexty-
  nine
 If you look you see de clearin' aroun' de
  Coo Coo Cache,
An' pleasan' place enough too among de spruce
  an' pine
 If foreman on de shaintee is  n't Cyprien
  Palache.

Beeg feller, alway watchin' on hees leetle
  weasel eye,
 De gang dey can't do not'ing but he see dem
  purty quick
Wit' hees "Hi dere, w'at you doin' ?" ev'ry
  tam he 's passin' by
 An' de bad word he was usin' , wall! it offen
  mak' me sick.

An' he carry silver w'issle wit' de chain aroun'
  hees neck
 For fear he mebbe los' it, an' ev'ry body say
  He mus' buy it from de devil w'en he 's
  passin' on Kebeck
 But if it 's true dat story, I dunno how
  moche he pay.

Dere 's plaintee on de shaintee can sing lak
  rossignol
 Pet Clancy play de fiddle, an' Jimmie Char-
  bonneau
Was bring hees concertina from below St.
  Fereol
 So we get some leetle pleasure till de long,
  long winter go.

But if we start up singin' affer supper on de
  camp
 "Par derriere chez ma tante," or "Mattawa
  wishtay,"
De boss he 'll come along den, an' put heem
 out de lamp,
 An' only stop hees swearin' w'en we all go
  marche coucher.

We 've leetle boy dat winter from Po-po-lo-be-
  lang
 Hees fader an' hees moder dey're bote
  A-ben-a-kee
An' he 's comin' , Injun Johnnie, wit' some
  man de lumber gang
 Was fin' heem nearly starvin' above on Lac
  Souris.

De ole man an' de woman is tryin' pass de Soo
 W'en water 's high on spring tam, an' of
 course dey 're gettin' drown',
For even smartes' Injun should n't fool wit'
  birch canoe,
 W'ere de reever lak toboggan on de hill is
  runnin' down.

So dey lef' de leetle feller all alone away up
  dere
 Till lumber gang is ketchin' him an' bring
  him on de Cache,
But better if he 's stayin' wit' de wolf an' wit'
  de bear
 Dan come an' tak' hees chances wit' Cyprien
  Palache.

I wonder how he stan' it, w'y he never run
  away
 For Cyprien lak neeger he is treat heem all
  de sam'
An' if he 's wantin' Johnnie on de night or on
  de day
 God help heem if dat w'issle she was below
  de secon'tam!

De boy he don 't say not'ing, no wan never see
  heem cry
 He 's got de Injun in heem, you can see it
  on de face,
An' only for us feller an' de cook, he 'll surely
  die
 Long before de winter 's over, long before
  we lef' de place,

But I see heem hidin' somet'ing wan morning
  by de shore
 So firse tam I was passin' I scrape away de
  snow
An' it 's rabbit skin he 's ketchin' on de swamp
  de day before,
 Leetle Injun Johnnie 's workin' on de spirit
 Windigo.

December's come in stormy, an' de snow-dreef
  fill de road
 Can only see de chimley an' roof of our
  cabane,
An' stronges' team on stable fin' it plaintee
  heavy load
 Haulin' sleigh an' two t'ree pine log t'roo
  de wood an' beeg savane.

An' I travel off wan day me, wit' Cyprien
  Palache
 Explorin' for new timber, w'en de win' be-
  gin to blow,
So we hurry on de snow-shoe for de camp on
  Coo Coo Cache
 If de nor' eas' storm is comin', was de bes'
  place we dunno-

An' we 're gettin' safe enough dere wit' de
  storm close on our heel,
 But w'en our belt we loosen for takin' off de
  coat
De foreman commence screamin' an' mon Dieu
  it mak' us feel
 Lak he got t'ree t'ousan' devil all fightin' on
  hees t'roat.

Cyprien is los' hees w'issle, Cyprien is los' hees
  chain
 Injun Johnnie he mus' fin' it, even if de win'
  is high

He can never show hese'f on de Coo Coo
  Cache again
 Till he bring dat silver w'issle an' de chain
  it 's hangin' by.

So he sen' heem on hees journey never knowin'
  he come back
 T'roo de rough an' stormy wedder, t'roo de
  pile of dreefin' snow
"Wat 's de use of bein' Injun if you can 't
  smell out de track?"
 Dat 's de way de boss is talkin' , an' poor
  Johnnie have to go.

If you want to hear de musique of de nort' win'
  as it blow
 An' lissen to the hurricane an' learn de way
  it sing
An' feel how small de man is w'en he 's
  leevin' here below,
 You should try it on de shaintee w'en she 's
  doin' all dem t'ing!

W'at 's dat soun' lak somet'ing cryin' all
  aroun' us ev'ryw'ere?
 We never hear no tonder upon de winter
  storm!
Dey 're shoutin' to each oder dem voices on
  de air,
 An' it 's red hot too de stove pipe, but no
  wan 's feelin' warm!

"Get out an' go de woodpile before I freeze
  to deat'"
 Cyprien de boss is yellin' an' he 's lookin'
  cole an' w'ite
Lak dead man on de coffin, but no wan go,
  you bet,
 For if it 's near de woodpile, 't is n't close
  enough to-night!

Non! we ain't afraid of not'ing, but we don 't
  lak takin' chance,
 An' w'en we hear de spirit of de wil' A-ben-
  a-kee
Singin' war song on de chimley, makin' all dem
  Injun dance
 Raisin' row dere, you don't ketch us on no
  woodpile -no siree!

O! de lonesome night we 're passin' w'ile
  we 're stayin' on dat place!
 An' ev'rybody sheever when Jimmie Char
  bonneau
Say he 's watchin' on de winder an' he see de
  Injun face
 An' it 's lookin' so he tole us, jus' de sam'
  as Windingo.

Den again mese'f I 'm hearin' somet'ing
  callin', an' it soun'
 Lak de voice of leetle Johnnie so I'm
  passin' on de door

But de pine stump on de clearin' wit' de w'ite
  sheet all aroun'
 Mak' me t'ink of churchyar' tombstone, an'
  I can't go dere no more.

Wat's de reason we 're so quiet w'ile our
  heart she 's goin' fas'
 W'y is no wan ax de question?  dat we're
  all afraid to spik?
Was it wing of flyin' wil' bird strek de winder
  as it pass,
 Or de sweesh of leetle snow-ball w'en de win'
  is playin' trick?

W'en we buil' de Coo Coo shaintee, she's as
  steady as a rock,
 Did you feel de shaintee shakin' de sam,
  she's goin' to fall?
Dere's somet'ing on de doorway! an' now we
  hear de knock
 An' up above de hurricane we hear de w'issle
  call.

Callin', callin' lak a bugle, an' he's jompin' up
  de boss
 From hees warm bed on de corner an' open
  wide de door-
Dere's no use foller affer for Cyprien is los'
 An' de Coo Coo Cache an' shaintee he'll
  never see no more.

At las' de morning's comin', an' storm is blow
  away
 An' outside on de shaintee young Jimmie
  Charbonneau
He's seein' track of snowshoe, 'bout de size of
  doulbe sleigh
 Dere's no mistak' it's makin' by de spirit
  Windigo.

An' de leetle Injuin Johnie, he's all right I
  onderstan'
 For you'll fin' heem up de reever above de
  Coo Coo Cache
Ketchin' mink and ketchin' beaver, an' he's
  growin' great beeg man
 But dat's de las' we're hearin' of Cyprien
  Palache.

© William Henry Drummond