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316
LE DR W. H. DRUMMOND
He wept when the legion erambraced his neck
And swore by the sacred Laurentides
He’d never more venture below Quebec.
So gently we bore the repentant chief
Tenderly placed him that awful day
On board of the gallant ship "Relief"[1] (1)
And swiftly to the Westward sailed away.
The Pilgrim ceased, his mournful task
Was ended at last and all was well
Then raised to his lips the magie flask
And silently bade me a last farewell.
Pean
Joy ! Joy at the Pêche — let the Caribou dance
Let the fatted oxen at once be slain
Let the men get full and the bull moose prance
For the Commodore has come home again.
- ↑ Puissant remorqueur en bois qui appartenait autrefois à Monsieur Ross, de Québec.
