Red River’s just had news
all citizens draw near;
an army general’s
recruiting soldiers here.
Enlistments he does seek
of many Bois-Brûlés,
and now as soldiers brave
he’s led a group away.
These silver epaulettes,
to you I would present,
dear Mr. Cuthbert Grant,
chief of the regiment.
For I’m a general
and Dickson is my name;
in the land of Mexico,
a crown I go to claim.
When you reach Mexico,
right in the chiefest town,
generals and cannoneers
My officers, farewell,
you’ve all deserted me;
unhappy Dickson’s tale
will soon be history.
I thank you one and all,
men of the company,
for you have brought me back
to Fort Mackenzie.
I know I owe you thanks,
your money goes to pay
the service of two guides,
two hardy Bois-Brûlés.
Who is the district bard,
that this song composed?
If you wait for the end,
his name will be disclosed.
At table we will sit,
one day, to sing and drink;
to sing the whole song through,
and let the glasses clink!
Now, friends, let’s have a toast,
let us salute the song!
Sung by our prairie bard,
the poet, Pierre Falcon.
Translated from French by Robert L. Walters