Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 6, 2025
En roulant ma boule, Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule, was changed to the pathetic refrain of a song then as now dear to the heart of French Canadians A la claire fontaine. In the cool twilight the men paddled on, placing mile after mile between them and Montreal. Presently the river widened into a lakelike expanse.
The men quickened their stroke and shot diagonally across the current of an eddy. "Ni-shi-shin," said Me-en-gan. They fell back to the old stroke, rolling out their full-throated measure. "Toutes les plumes s'en vont au vent, En roulant ma boule, Trois dames s'en vont les ramassant, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." The canoe was now in the smooth rush of the first stretch of swifter water.
Be more polite, or I'll stand here and sing you the whole of it." The window slammed shut. Ned Trent took up his walk again toward some designated sleeping-place of his own, his song dying into the distance. "Visa le noir, tua le blanc, En roulant ma boule, O fils du roi, tu es mechant! Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." "And he can sing!" cried the girl bitterly to herself. "At such a time!
Be more polite, or I'll stand here and sing you the whole of it." The window slammed shut. Ned Trent took up his walk again toward some designated sleeping-place of his own, his song dying into the distance. "Visa le noir, tua le blanc, En roulant ma boule, O fils du roi, tu es mêchant! Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." "And he can sing!" cried the girl bitterly to herself. "At such a time!
The men quickened their stroke and shot diagonally across the current of an eddy. "Ni-shi-shin," said Me-en-gan. They fell back to the old stroke, rolling out their full-throated measure. "Toutes les plumes s'en vont au vent, En roulant ma boule, Trois dames s'en vont les ramassant, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." The canoe was now in the smooth rush of the first stretch of swifter water.
Almost immediately a window slid back, and an exasperated voice cried out: "Hola dere, w'at one time dam fool you for mak' de sing so late!" The voice went on imperturbably: "Avec son grand fusil d'argent, En roulant ma boule, Visa le noir, tua le blanc, Rouli roulant, ma boule roulant." "Sacre!" shrieked the habitant. "Hello, Johnny Frenchman!" called Ned Trent, in his acid tones. "That you?
"My snow-white drake, my love, my King, The crimson life-blood stains his wing. "His golden bill sinks on his breast, His plumes go floating east and west "En roulant ma boule: Rouli, roulant, ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule roulant, En roulant ma boule!" As she finished the song we rounded an angle in the Whi-Whi.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking