English

There are some thoughts too sad to put in words,
There are some joys too deep for accents gay.
I think that that is why God makes the birds
Such things to say.

There are some moments full of melodies
Too sweet for harps or any human thing.
I think that that is why God makes the trees
Such songs to sing.

There are some souls that down life's highway pass
Too fair to last in hope's bright diadem.
I think that that is why God makes the grass
To shelter them.

Beneath the waters of the sea
Are lobsters thick as thick can be —
They love to dance with you and me,
My own, my gentle Salmon!

C HORUS

Salmon, come up! Salmon, go down!
Salmon, come twist your tail around!
Of all the fishes of the sea
There's none so good as Salmon!

Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I could n't doubt it,
How she danced—my Grandma danced!—
Long ago.
How she held her pretty head,
How her dainty skirt she spread,
Turning out her little toes;
How she slowly leaned and rose—
Long ago.

Grandma's hair was bright and sunny;
Dimpled cheeks, too—ah, how funny!
Really quite a pretty girl,
Long ago.
Bless her! why, she wears a cap,
Grandma does, and takes a nap
Every single day; and yet
Grandma danced the minuet

Old man with the hour-glass, halt! halt! I pray —
Don't you see you are taking my children away?
My own little babies who came long ago,
You stole them, old man with the beard white as snow!

My beautiful babies, so bonny and bright!
Where have you carried them, far out of sight?
Oh, dimpled their cheeks were, and sunny their hair!
But I cannot find them; I 've searched everywhere.

My three-year-old toddlers, they shouted in glee;
They sported about me; they sat on my knee.

They sit on their silken cushions and say what a terrible thing
To be the wife of a woodsman, the queen of a jungle king —
To dwell in an humble dwelling, to live on a shanty floor,
With nothing but house and husband, and a red rose by the door.
But I, I am sick of longing, and I, I am dying here
For a strong man's home in a clearing and the love of a pioneer.

They prattle of fads and fashions, of dinners and balls and nights,
These powdered and pretty fungi, these gossiping parasites;

We lived beneath the mat,
Warm and snug and fat,
But one woe, and that
Was the cat!
To our joys a clog, In our eyes a fog, On our hearts a log
Was the dog!
When the cat's away,
Then the mice will play.
But, alas! one day (So they say)
Came the dog and cat, Hunting for a rat,
Crushed the mice all flat,
Each one as he sat
Underneath the mat,
Warm, and snug, and fat—
Think of that!

The sawin' of lumber,
The fallin' of norway,
The old occupation
Of drivin' the pine,
Has brought any number
Of men to our doorway —
Brought every nation
A-crossin' the brine.
But, of every faction,
From swampers to sorters,
Who run on the rivers
Or work in the mill,
The quickest in action
In murmurin' waters,
The cattiest drivers,
Are Irishers still!

Folks talk of Quebeckers
From Saguenay fountains,
They talk of world-beaters

The time that Peary found the Pole
I saw the strangest thing;
My blanket 'round me in a roll,
I camped beside a spring.
'Twas when outdoors you like to lay
These early Summer nights —
An' in the north, so far away,
I saw the Northern Lights.

I saw the blue sky overhead,
An' then, in flashin' bars,
I saw the stripes of white an' red,
An', over them, the stars.
I saw the red an' white an' blue
Up there at Peary's goal —
I saw the Stars an' Stripes, an' knew
That he had found the Pole!

Mystiques barcarolles
Romances sans paroles,
Chere, puisque tes yeux,
Couleur des cieux,

Puisque ta voix, etrange
Vision qui derange
Et trouble l'horizon
De ma raison,

Puisque l'arome insigne
De ta pâleur de cygne,
Et puisque la candeur
De ton odeur,

Ah! puisque tout ton être,
Musique qui penetre,
Nimbes d'anges defunts,
Tons et parfums,

A, sur d'almes cadences,
En ses correspondances
Induit mon caeur subtil,
Ainsi soit-il!

What was the moon a-spying
Out of her half-shut eye?
One of her stars went flying
Across the broad, blue sky.