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On the Road to Chapeau On the road to Chapeau with a sack on my shoulder On a fine autumn morning at the dawn of the day There were red bloody patches on the golden tree cover And the mountain's bosom caressed by the sun. At the mill bridge I paused for a while As the coloured hills' reflection swirled in the stream But beauty was a bitter consolation to the young man Whose voice I heard, full of gloom. The young man says: It's little I thought as I slaved in the bush It's little I thought, ever cutting the timber And it's very little I though, after the drive That I would see you married to the brown-haired boy. You promised that you'd remain faithful through the winter And not notice the spring days in bloom And that we would be wed when I returned, But you have deceived me and left me desolate. The young woman says: I remained faithful through the winter snows Nor did I mark the spring days in bloom. But I never promised to wait a whole summer With no news from you, while you were off drinking. Did you think I'd be a maiden for ever, Waiting upon a rake without money or property? But you'd best go back to the bush Because a lad like you hasn't the makings of a husband. Many a pretty woman did I woo in my youth Many a pretty woman did I leave in sorrow. And many an evening did I waste In the back of the tavern, carousing and drinking. Young men of the broad Ottawa Valley, Accept this advice from a sour old man Money to save, and whiskey to shun, And you'll have a nice happy girl for a wife. |
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