For those who haven't made the trek from St. John's to St. Pierre, it involves a four-hour drive to Fortune and a half-hour or one-hour ferry ride, depending on the ferry and the weather. Pretty painless, really, to end up in France. If the dogs don't bother you going through customs, you're in for a wonderful time.

Like Newfoundland, St. Pierre is full of salt-of-the-earth characters who love to drink. I particularly get a kick out of the older men. Sitting at the bar drinking their gin and crème de menthe, they love to see the
Newfoundland women coming. That's where le fantôme, Denis comes in. Dressed in a striped black and white shirt and long black felt coat, he showed up at each one of my shows during a four-night stint at the
Marine Bar in the summer of '99. I would look up from my guitar chords to see a man right in front of me, staring intently. I would smile at him and go back to concentrating on the song I was playing. Then I would look up and he would be nowhere in sight. This went on every night.

At the end of each show, Denis made attempts to befriend my band and me, or so I thought. He invited us
outside to smoke from his tiny, hand-carved wooden pipe. It would have been an insult to decline at this point, with Denis having been such a great supporter of our music on the weekend. Denis would speak to me in French all the time. He spoke with a thick St. Pierre accent and often gestured with his hands. What I understood, I understood and what I didn't, I didn't. I smiled at him, as he seemed very kind. When he told me "I know all of the women on this island," I started to wonder what he was getting at. He seemed to get excessively frustrated the more he drank and the more he spoke to me.

On our last night in St. Pierre, Denis got loaded drunk. My band mate, Aneirin and I were standing outside the Marine Bar with Denis when he asked me to go back to his house with him. I said "No thanks." Denis started to make obscene comments and motions towards my breastular region. I guess I hadn't been paying the kind of attention to him that he was paying to me. Things got out of hand and I asked Aneirin to tell Denis that he was my boyfriend. When I returned to St. John's, I wrote a song about the trip and Denis. I called the song, "Le fantôme, Denis."

Deux milles. New Year's Eve 2000 found me once again in St. Pierre at the Marine Bar. I flew over via Air St. Pierre this time. No ferry was running in the winter. I was travelling with Skank, a local reggae band that shared members of my band. Everyone in St. Pierre loves reggae (so do I). Bob Marley is God. And right next to him is Jim Fidler.

The flight was sketchy. Ice on the wings. Drummers puking. Luckily it was not too long. We landed at the airport in St. Pierre and we were glad to see Frederick from the Marine Bar. We loaded the gear aboard Fred's truck and headed for the bar. On the way, Frederick told me that Denis knew about the song. I hadn't thought about that. Small world, I guess. What would I do? How would he react? I definitely had to play the song; it was one of the few French songs I had and I was in St. Pierre.

New Year's was great! There was food and wine and happy people more than ready to celebrate. New Year's Eve it was snowing a soft, fluffy snow. Everyone was ecstatic to see the snow. There was a sign with blinking lights that read 2000 atop an archway. People from all over the island lined up and passed under the sign; each one had a number, and was excited about a chance to win a trip to France. After everyone had passed under the sign, some left and others piled into the Marine Bar and Le Joinville, the disco joint. If you ever go to St. Pierre, you are assured to visit Le Joinville one late night or another. You may or may not remember it. Myself and the members of Skank went in to the Marine Bar to do our show. Celebrations ensued throughout the night. Noisemakers, confetti and plenty of booze -- telltale signs of New Year's Eve.

The Marine Bar was buzzing. Joyous faces filled the room as Skank began their reggae set. All hands danced and onlookers held their places at the bar. Skank played six or seven reggae songs and then broke into a country number by Neil Conway. A tall, burly man in a cowboy hat moved away from the bar and started clapping and dancing. Then they went back to the reggae. The man in the cowboy hat moved back to the bar, shaking his head, looking very displeased. After the next song, he approached the stage shouting, "No more reggae! I am the Captain! I say more country music. No more reggae!" Skank played a couple of more songs and left the stage. Now I knew it was my turn.

I was shaking. I took a few sips of Corona and got behind the microphone. I don't know what gave me the instant balls. Maybe it was "the captain" in the cowboy hat staring at me from the corner of the bar, or the fact that everyone seemed loaded drunk enough not to give a shag what I was doing. I started the set with "Le Fantôme, Denis." Everything rushed through my head. I pictured people throwing glasses and jeering at me for making fun of their beloved Denis. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted someone approaching the stage. I thought, "Oh no. Now I'm doomed." I focused on the man who started dancing by himself, imitating the exact actions in the song, line for line. He whirled around in front of me, making circles with his cigarette, pausing to hear every line. It was Denis! He obviously liked the song. I finished the song to thunderous applause. It was an instant hit and if Denis wasn't a hero before, he was now. But he still couldn't get me to go home with him. Thanks for the song, Denis!

LE FANTÔME, DENIS (from "Lucky You Are")

Le fantôme, Denis
Il danse dans ma tête
Ou il fait des cercles
Avec une cigarette
Le fantôme, Denis
Il fume le hashish
Et je le fume aussi
Il dit "Je suis romantique"
Le fantôme, Denis

Ou est le fantôme, Denis
Il reste près du bar
Il porte une chandail rayeé
Et un manteau noir
Il tourne sa chaise
Pour meilleur me voir
Il achete une boisson
Il dit, "Viens ici"
Le fantôme, Denis

Il dit, "Je connais toutes les femmes
Qui habitent sur cette isle"
Je dis, "Oui, c'est bon
Maintenant, laisse moi tranquille"

Le fantôme, Denis
Il danse dans ma tête
Ou il fait des cercles
Avec une cigarette
Il fume le hashish
Et je fume avec lui
Il dit "Tu es belle, tu es belle"
Le fantôme, Denis

© Colleen Power/SOCAN/2000
P.O. Box 5332, Station C, St. John's NL A1C 5W2