The Oxford Book of Canadian Verse
En roulant ma BouleWilliam McLennan (18561904)
B
En roulant ma boule;
Three ducks bathe in its water clear,
En roulant ma boule.
En roulant ma boule, roulant,
En roulant ma boule.
The Prince goes hunting far and near.
He bears his gun of magic make.
He sights the Black but kills the White.
Ah! cruel Prince, my heart you smite.
In killing thus my snow-white Drake.
The crimson life-blood stains his wing.
His diamond eyes have lost their light.
His golden bill sinks on his breast.
His plumes go floating East and West.
Till gathered by fair maidens’ hands;
And form at last a soldier’s bed.
En roulant ma boule.
Sweet refuge for the wanderer’s head,
En roulant ma boule.
En roulant ma boule, roulant,
En roulant ma boule.