Ne prenez pas une rousse,
Car elles sont trop jalouses.

And by the time all the different qualifications are rehearsed and
objected to, lengthened out by the interminable repetition of the
chorus, the shout of the bourgeois is heard--

"Whoop la! à terre, à terre--pour la pipe!"

It is an invariable custom for the voyageurs to stop every five or six
miles to rest and smoke, so that it was formerly the way of measuring
distances--"so many pipes," instead of "so many miles."

The Canadian melodies are sometimes very beautiful, and a more
exhilarating mode of travel can hardly be imagined than a voyage over
these waters, amid all the wild magnificence of nature, with the
measured strokes of the oar keeping time to the strains of "_Le Rosier
Blanc_," "En roulant ma Boule_," or "_Lève ton pied, ma jolie Bergère."_

The climax of fun seemed to be in a comic piece, which, however oft
repeated, appeared never to grow stale. It was somewhat after this
fashion:

BOURGEOIS.--Michaud est monté dans un prunier,
Pour treiller des prunes.
La branche a cassé--

CHORUS.--Michaud a tombé?

BOURGEOIS.--Ou est-ce qu'il est?