19 April 2022

Ten Poems for National Poetry Month, Number 7: 'Dat's Laurier' by William Wilber MacCuaig

For the month, the seventh of ten poems
find interesting, amusing, and/or infuriating.

The second of two poems praising Wilfrid Laurier in William Wilber MacCuaig's Songs of a Shanty-Man and other "Dialect Poems" of French-Canadian Life (Toronto: Musson, 1913). The poet's only book, it's also dedicated to the great statesman.

                    Who's dat raise h'all de row 'e can,
                    When 'e's small boy, h'also beeg man,
                    An' gets dere firs' mos' h'every tam?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat, when 'e's young lad at school,
                    Was at de top 'es class, no fool.
                    Can fight lak' mischief an' keep cool ?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat when partee Liberal
                    Was all bus' up on N.P. wall
                    'E save dat ship safe trou' it all?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    When partee Conservateur was run,
                    An' on 'es side got all de fun,
                    Who's dat was firin' off 'es gun?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat, when Boer in h'Africa,
                    Raise beeg hurrah about some law,
                    'E feex 'im wid sodger from Canada?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat, when our good Queen she die,
                    Advise dem people fer to try,
                    Dat young fella—de Prince, so shy?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat, when in politique dey fight.
                    An' knock h'each oder out of sight,
                    Was settle h'everything all right ?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat, when 'e's gone far away,
                    De people's lonesome every day,
                    De crop 's bad, and dere's no hay?
                          Dat's Laurier.

                    Who's dat dey blame for h'everyting.
                    When dere's damp wedder and cole spring,
                    But 'e jus' smiles an' says, "By jing!"—
                          Dat's Laurier.

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