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"My master and I come to France I was tomestic master of mein Austrian marechal Austrian with de gelt in family. Master always roving, always gay, joint regiment at Montreau. Montreau, oh, mein Gott, great, great pattle many sleep no more but in death. Napoleon coom poum, poum go gannon. Prusse, Austrian, Rousse all disturb. I, too, much disturb.
And the Admiral light his pipe and say: 'Bully for us, we are not kill! Who is to make the organ play Make it say zoon-kazoon? You with the corunet come this way You are the man, Magillel Piff! poum! kazoon, kazoon!" Now, this is the story of McGilveray the bandmaster of Anstruther's regiment: It was at the time of the taking of Quebec, the summer of 1759.
"Soliman, Soliman!" cried I; and Soliman came. Sir, the instinct of the dog was remarkable: we had hardly got out of the village when he made a point such a point, sir! his tail out as straight as a ramrod. There was the thrush, not ten paces from me. I fired both barrels Poum! Poum! Powder not worth a rush. I had used all my own the day before, and this was some I had got from my host.
In Pontiac, one of the Magilles, the fiddler of the parish, made the following verse in English as a tribute of admiration for an heroic deed of his ancestor, of which the Cure of the parish, the good M. Santonge, had told him: "Piff! poem! ka-zoon, ka-zoon! That is the way of the organ tune And the ships are safe that day! Piff! poum! kazoon, kazoon!
There was absolutely no sound, except the sound of the steamer's tiny engine poum-poum, poum! poum-poum, poum! like the faint tapping of a geisha's drum. And this savage silence continued for miles: only the absence of lofty timber gave evidence that those peaked hills had ever been trodden by human foot.
And the Admiral light his pipe and say: 'Bully for us, we are not kill! Who is to make the organ play Make it say zoon-kazoon? You with the corunet come this way You are the man, Magillel Piff! poum! kazoon, kazoon!" Now, this is the story of McGilveray the bandmaster of Anstruther's regiment: It was at the time of the taking of Quebec, the summer of 1759.
In Pontiac, one of the Magilles, the fiddler of the parish, made the following verse in English as a tribute of admiration for an heroic deed of his ancestor, of which the Cure of the parish, the good M. Santonge, had told him: "Piff! poem! ka-zoon, ka-zoon! That is the way of the organ tune And the ships are safe that day! Piff! poum! kazoon, kazoon!
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