(A Poem in the Newfoundlander vernacular of Atlantic Canada)

“Now, Tuh-Reese. Well,
I just had to call ya soon’s
I had the chance!

Yes and I’m not home long me-self!
Well I never got such a fright.

Into the Gould’s Sunday
to check on the grave.

Oh My-y-y-y-y Treese!
To see her! Oh my gaaaaaawd
‘Treese it’s enough to kill ya!

She’s not well at all.
She’s gonna drive herself cracked,
smoking all time, and well
I didn’t tell ya the worst of it.

Now! I was just up to St. Kevin’s
to visit poor old Terry and Tina-

oh and how lovely it looks
with the stones put down,
and old misters headstone is still
not in- but now Ta-Re-Sa!

Who do I bump into
but Poor Ole Emma!

Terese? not a stitch on her
but her nightgown!

Smoking up a storm!
She looks at me like

she don’t know me first!?
My own sister! She says,

“Oh! I has to visit William at least three times a day, I misses em too much,”

Well,
Ta-rease;
I nearly died.

Oh My-y-y-y-y, What will become of-er”

“Well now I won’t keep ya long
but I had to cawwwl ya
wit’ all the news. Well now
Treese I nearly died,
and you had to laugh,
but she finally did it.

Now Trease, You Know William,
(god bless his soul),
left his first daughter the trailer?

Well, she’s brought in a social worker
to examine poor ole Emma.

That’s it now my dear, she’s gone now.
They’ll have her locked up
down to the mental!

Or In-tuh-da Escazoni!

Sure Mary you knew dat.
No Good Talkin To ‘Er Either.

Yes, and I know!
But ya feel bad for the poor
old thing now b’y,
she drove herself mad.

Why couldn’t she just stay home,
now Teresa you tell me
what
did an old woman
of 68
want going up and down that hill Treese?

and now not once
but two and three times a day?

Well she would only be hurt
or end up in hospital by now Treese!
Our own Sister!

Tell me, what choice was there?”