Poems » ernest myers » tour abroad of wilfrid the great


By Jean Baptiste Trudeau.

W'en Queen Victoria calls her peup's
   For mak' some Jubilee,
She sen' for men from all de worl' --
   And from her colonie.

But mos' of all, she sen' dis word
   To dis Canadian shore,
"If Wilfrid Laurier do not come,
   I will be glad no more."

Den Wilfrid not hard-hearted, he
   Lif' w'at you call de hat,
An' say, "Ma reine, you mus' not fret,
   For little t'ing lak' dat.

"To Londres, on de day in June
   You mention, I will come,
And show you w'at is lak' de French-
   Canadian gentilhomme."

So Wildred sailed across de sea,
   An' Queen Victoria met,
An' w'en she's see him, ah! she is
   Jus' tickle half to deat'!

An' w'en he's kneel, as etiquette
   Demand, for be correc',
She tak' a sword into her han'
   An' hit him on de neck.

An' w'en she do, she smile on him,
   An' dese de words she say:
"Rise up, my true Canadian Knight --
   Sir Wilfrid Laurier!

"An' on dose grand Imperial plans
   Which I have now in view,
For guidance, counsel, an' advice
   I'll always look to you."

Den Wilfrid kiss de Royal han',
   An' back off on de door,
An' bow as only Frenchman can,
   An' smile an' bow some more.

Nex' day, it was a glorious sight,
   At half-pas' twelve o'clock,
To see Sir Wilfrid ride in state,
   An' in chapeau de coque.

Lords Solsby, Roberts, and Cecil Rhodes,
   An' Chamberlain an' dose
Were w'at you call "not in it," for
   Sir Wilfrid was de boss.

Oui, certainement, excep' de Queen
   Herself dat glorious day,
De greates' man on Angleterre
   Was Wilfrid Laurier.


Sir Wilfrid cross de Channel den,
   Mak' visit La Patrie,
An' mak' fine speeches two or three
   In de city of Paree.

An' shak' de han', an' drink de vin
   Mit Faure de Presiden',
An' show him what de kin' of man
   Dis contrie represen'.

An' w'en Dir Wilfrid's voice dey hear,
   An' his fine shape dey see,
De men of France was hall surprise,
   De ladies hall epris.

Den Monsieur Faure he rise an say,
   "Sir Wilfrid Laurier,
In de Legion d'Honneur you are
   Un grand officier."

An' to Sir Wilfrid, front dem hall,
   He mak' some fine address,
An' den ribbon wit' de star
   He pin upon his breas'.

En bref, our Wilfrid capture France,
   He's capture Anglan', too;
I t'ink he will annex dem both
   To Canada -- don' you?


Sir Wilfrid, tired of Jubilee
   An' glorie an' eclat,
He says, "Dese contrie dey ees not
   Lak' my own Canada.

"I wan' my own dear lan' for see
   An' de St. Laurent gran',
An' hear again de French he spik
   Mon bonhomme habitan!"

Den to the Queen an' Monsieur Faure
   Hees "au revoirs" he say,
"I mus' go back on ole Kebec,
   An' Mo'real dis day.

"An' I mus go an help toujours,
   Lor' Aberdeen mak' law,
An' keep dem Tory boodler from
   De safe in Ottawa.

"An' help Sir Olivair, Sir Deek
   An' Tarte mak' politique,
An' keep Sir Tuppair an' hees gang
   From play some crooked trique."

So, on de "Labrador" he sail,
   On Canada he come,
We hall be glad his face to see,
   An' he ees glad be home.

An' hall de Angleesh, Ireesh, Franch
   'Roun hees triomphan' car,
Say, "Bienvenu! Come, spok to us
   Upon de Champ de Mars."

Sir Wilfrid tole us dat he drink
   Dose vins mit' Monsieur Faure,
An' dine on Windsor -- so he tole
   Us on de Champ de Mars.

Den hall de peup' dey mak' big cheer,
   De cannon dey mak' shoot,
We hall be on one grand hoorau,
   De steamboats on a toot.

So we hall sing, "God bless de Queen!
   An' Monsieur Faure, alway!
Because dey treat all same lak' prince,
   Our Wilfrid Laurier."