The first one is called Mose and the Moose and I do believe I was motivated by my brother-in-law Cyril, when he decided to play tag with a moose on the way home from Clarenville one night. I guess he was being really thoughtful, thinking I needed some poem fodder.
Mose and the Moose
Our country's laws are strange, it seems,
As Mose knows, there's no doubt,
As he was driving home one night,
A moose, bewitched by his headlights,
From the forest wandered out.
Mose hit the brakes, his car to stop,
The tires squealed, and left
Black marks, but he could not stop it
In time, the poor young buck was hit,
Poor Mose was quite bereft.
For there his brand new Chevy sat,
Its front end squatted in
He'd never even had the time
To make one payment, not one dime,
It was a real darn sin.
Oh well, he said, my car is gone,
At least I'll have the meat,
All winter long it will provide
Meat stewed and roasted, boiled and fried,
For all my folks to eat.
And so he hailed a passing car
A ride back home he got
He and his friends returned with saws
To strip the moose from hoofs to jaws
All ready for the pot.
Now things did not go smoothly
As poor Mose found that night
He got the meat down to his yard
And then he found his driveway barred
With cars with flashing lights.
They took his winter's hoard away
To an institution's kitchen
To feed the crooks and thieves and such
That left poor Mose with not too much
No car. No moose. No nuthin'.
Of course, the only similarity here was the fact that Cyril wrecked his car, and of course, a moose. Everyone knows that one doesn't harvest the meat from road kill.
Even though I know absolutely no one who has ever poached a moose, ever, I still managed to write a poem about poaching. That's because I'm smrt.
The Week Before Christmas
'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the hoose,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the moose,
In the basement its carcass was hanging with care,
In hope that no Mountie would track it down there,
And poppy and daddy and Uncle Mose too
Were down in the basement with good Newfie brew.
When out in the yard there arose such a clatter
They ran to the door to see what was the matter
And right in the driveway did quickly appear
A car with two Mounties - their hearts filled with fear,
And meanwhile, the pot filled with kidneys and 'lights'
Gave an odour of moose to this crisp winter night.
Now nanny was setting the table for four,
When seeing the Mounties, put out two plates more
And she went to the door when they knocked to get in
Not seeing the wee spot of blood on her chin .
The Mounties said, "Madam, it may seem absurd,
But news of some moose meat around here we've heard.
"Would you mind if we search, the rumor to quench?"
Said nanny, "No, look, and please do stay for lunch."
Well, the mounties came in, and they looked here and there
And one of them went to the basement stair,
When poppy and daddy and Uncle Mose too
Did what they, in a tight spot, had no choice but to do.
They started to growl at the foot of the stair
Like three vicious dogs on the track of a bear
And the Mountie, he stopped with one foot on the stair
And nan said,"We've got to keep Killer down there,
He's an awful mean dog when he sees someone strange
At the sight of a uniform, he's completely deranged.
"You'd better be careful, he'll tear you in two,
But go look if you must, do what you have to do."
The Mountie leaped back, and he went to his pal
And said, "There's no need to look down there at all
In fact, I remembered just then that we're late -
We're almost off duty, and we've both got a date.
"So if you'll excuse us, we'd better move on ..."
And before you could say Santa Claus, they were gone
And poppy and daddy and Uncle Most too
Came upstairs for a scoff of that good moose meat stew.
By the way, this is not a good way to cook moose. Just saying.
The last one is based on a story I heard from Ada, my one time partner in crime. I don't know if it was true or not - maybe she was pulling my leg, but I wrote this anyway. If there is indeed a 'Louie' then sorry - but this isn't about you. It's about someone else who lived far, far away.
Louie
Oh, his yearly round with the moonshine flask
Brought Louie to our door,
It was nearing one on Christmas Eve
When we heard him knock and roar.
We were having a party anyway
So we let old Louie in
And he wobbled through the door and set his bottle
On the kitchen table with a grin.
He flopped on the chair, almost missing the seat
For he was almost too drunk to walk
And the folks that were there shut up because
Louie wouldn't give them time to talk.
Yes, he held his glass with no steady hand
As he talked about times gone past
Every now and then bursting into song
Til he finally headed home at last.
We watched as he stumbled up the lane
And we wondered if he'd be all right
So I put on my coat to follow him
And make sure that he got home this night.
Well, I followed him home, but he didn't go in
To his house, but walked to the barn
Where Nellie, his horse, was sheltered
With hay to keep her warm.
Well, Louie went up to Nellie's stall
And stroked her chestnut head,
And I heard him say, "Is 'ee 'ungry?
"Do 'ee want some oats, me maid?"
Well, he didn't see me by the wall
So I thought I'd have some fun
When he asked again, "Is 'ee 'ungry?"
I said, "Yup, Louie!" then I run.
I hid myself by the apple tree
And I saw Louie run like hell
To the kitchen door where his missus stood,
For she'd been watching us for a spell.
Well, I'll never forget the sound of Louie's voice
When in tears he grabbed her arm
"Nellie said she was hungry, she talked to me
When I was in the barn!"
No I'll never forget the Christmas Eve
When Nellie to her master spoke
And I'm damned well sure that Louie won't,
For the only thing he drinks now is coke!
Now, since you've worked your way through these, there's a treat ahead. It's about an hour long, but this CBC clip of 4 real recitations, by 4 real Newfoundlanders, is worth a listen. Blast up your speakers, and have a Newfie dictionary handy - Stage to Stage - Newfoundland Recitations Now and Then
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