The Pageant of Saint-Lusson
Peter White
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In 1671 I joined the Sieur de Saint Lusson Sault Ste. Marie was where he said we would be going Sent there under orders by Jean Baptiste Talon To lay claim to the land before more British came along The people they all know me by the name Pierre Moreau I am a coureurs-de-bois and that is why I chose to go A chance to trade for furs among the natives that I know Skimming 'cross the water in those birch bark batteaux In October 1670 we set out from Montreal Down the Ottawa, lake Nipissing, the French River and all We canoed into lake Huron as the snow began to fall On Manitoulin island we waited for spring thaw In 1671 it was, on the 5th day of May We traders, priests and government men reached Sault Ste Marie Nicholas Perrot set out to tell the natives in Green Bay To come and watch the Frenchmen shoot their guns and have their say Who can own the land? Who can own a man? A tribe, a king, a government, a party or a clan? Who can ask the question? Who can understand? The idea is what has us in its ruthless little hand In 1671 on June 14th a new day dawned As Simon Francis Daumont, the Sieur de Saint Lusson Raised the cross of his religion as Vexilla Regis was sung And 2000 natives wondered what was goin' on The Indians watched as Simon raised some earth and then his sword And annexed in the name of Louis the 14th and the Lord The land beneath their feet and all the water that poured Through the rapids of St. Mary to every undiscovered shore Nick Perrot stood up and spoke to the natives in their tongue Some words that were supposed to tell them what had just been done He said, You may not understand it but the French kingdom has come All shouted, Vive le Roy! as the French fired off their guns A metal plate engraved with the royal arms of France Was attached to a cedar post as the priest took up his stance Allouez harangued the crowd and soon he put them in a trance I drank some rum and chuckled as the bonfire flames they danced Who can own the land? Who can own a man? A tribe, a king, a government, a party or a clan? Who can ask the question? Who can understand? The idea is what has us in its ruthless little hand Some 200 years later William Warren wrote down Just what the natives heard when the Frenchmen made their sounds They heard a pledge of friendship in those words that flew around A promise of protection as those muskets shook the ground By 1771 Louis the 14th was long gone The British had moved in, Vexilla Regis was not sung But traders just like me, French, English and native carried on Whoever owns the flag you find a way to sing along Who can own the land? Who can own a man? A tribe, a king, a government, a party or a clan? Who can ask the question? Who can understand? The idea is what has us in its ruthless little hand
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"The Pageant of Saint-Lusson Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 27 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/8359989/Peter+White/The+Pageant+of+Saint-Lusson>.
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