Here you will find the Long Poem Ole Docteur Fiset of poet William Henry Drummond
Ole Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet, Sapré tonnerre! he was leev long tam! I'm sure he's got ninety year or so, Beat all on de Parish 'cept Pierre Courteau, An' day affer day he work all de sam'. Dat house on de hill, you can see it still, She's sam' place he buil' de firs' tam' he come Behin' it dere's one leetle small jardin Got plaintee de bes' tabac Canayen Wit' fameuse apple an' beeg blue plum. An' dey're all right dere, for de small boy's scare No matter de apple look nice an' red, For de small boy know if he's stealin' some Den Docteur Fiset on dark night he come, An' cut leetle feller right off hees head! But w'en dey was rap, an' tak' off de cap, M'sieu' le Docteur he will say 'Entrez,' Den all de boy pass on jardin behin' W'ere dey eat mos' ev'ryt'ing good dey fin', Till dey can't go on school nearly two, t'ree day. But Docteur Fiset, not moche fonne he get, Drivin' all over de whole contree, If de road she's bad, if de road she's good, W'en ev'ryt'ing's drown on de Spring-tam flood, An' workin' for not'ing half tam' mebbe! Let her rain or snow, all he want to know Is jus' if anywan's feelin' sick, For Docteur Fiset's de ole fashion kin' Doin' good was de only t'ing on hees min' So he got no use for de politique. An' he's careful too, 'cos firs' t'ing he do, For fear dere was danger some fever case, Is tak' w'en he's come leetle w'isky chaud, Den 'noder wan too jus' before he go, He's so scare carry fever aroun' de place! On nice summer day w'en we're makin' hay Dere's not'ing more pleasant for us I'm sure Dan see de ole man come joggin' along, Alway singin' some leetle song, An' hear heem say 'Tiens, mes amis, Bonjour!' An' w'en de cole rain was commence again An' we're sittin' at home on some warm cornerre, If we hear de buggy an' see de light Tearin' along t'roo de black, black night, We know right off dat's de ole Docteur! An' he's smart horse sure, w'at he call 'Faubourg,' Ev'ry place on de Parish he know dem all, An' you ought to see de nice way he go For fear he's upsettin' upon de snow, W'en ole man's asleep on de cariole! I 'member w'en poor Hormisdas Couture Get sick on hees place twenty mile away An' hees boy Ovide he was come 'Raquette' W'at you call 'Snowshoe,' for Docteur Fiset, An' Docteur he start wit' hees horse an' sleigh. All de night before, de beeg storm she roar, An' mos' of de day it's de sam' also, De drif' was pilin' up ten feet high You can't see not'ing dis side de sky, Not'ing but wan avalanche of snow. I'm hearin' de bell w'en I go on de well For water de cattle on barn close by, But I only ketch sight of hees cheval blanc An' hees coonskin coat wit' de capuchon An' de storm tak' heem off, jus' de sam' he fly. Mus' be le Bon Dieu dat is help him t'roo, Ole Docteur Fiset an' hees horse 'Faubourg,' 'Twas somet'ing for splain-me, wall I don't care, But somehow or 'noder he's gettin' dere, An' save de life Hormisdas Couture. But it's sam' alway, lak' dat ev'ry day, He never was spare hese'f pour nous autres, He don't mak' moche monee, Docteur Fiset, An' offen de only t'ing he was get Is de prayer of poor man, an' wan bag of oat. * * * * * Wall! Docteur Fiset of Saint Anicet He is not dead yet! an' I'm purty sure If you're passin' dat place about ten year more You will see heem go roun' lak' he go before Wit' de ole cariole an' hees horse 'Faubourg!'