Crystal hills become toboggan slides
When the crimson blaze of Autumn dies.
Seasons ago, were the days of my youth.
I still recall patching that old school roof.
All quills were dipped into the ink wells
To busy themselves while the wee ones spelled
C A T on their slateboards, with chalk in hand.
Medville? He snored and ignored...
... my 'Wake-up! ' command.
His mother dropped by, one day at noon.
SMACKED his desk with a big wooden spoon.
He sat right up - straight as a stick
And quick as a lick...
In Reading and wRiting, he soon surpassed
Any kid taught in that one room class.
He took to Learning like a moth to a flame.
A Prince of the Pun...
...A veritable BARD, he became!
Treasured away was an old tattered book
Of poems he wrote down at Nellie's Brook.
Dig'n for worms, he laid the shovel down,
With pencil he netted...
...Mystic Beauty, all 'round.
In his short pants, to school he would trod,
With his book, fresh fruit and a twig of a rod,
For he loved to escape to the woods at lunch time,
To Idle. To fish...
...To pencil words into rhyme.
Mabel, Gert, Fannie and the beauteous Sue,
Winning his heart was the goal, they pursued.
These girls did laugh at his antics and quips,
But, Medville went alone...
...on his fishing trips.
A pot bellied stove, in the aisle, it stood.
Heated the school when packed fulla wood.
The embers that glowed caused a stir one time,
When Medville set fire to...
...his fishing line.
Amid clamor, he put..the rod in his hand
To try to retrieve Becky's hair ribbon band.
Thrown into the fire by Tom Foolery.
The rod and the ribbon...
To all ye young teachers, this is for you!
In life we encounter true Medvilles,1 or 2.
Plain born + bred fellers, endowed innately.
Encourage their Genius...
...or SLOTHS, they'll be! '
My love for this River has quided the way
I've etched vivid scenes of the Good Ole Days.
Now withered with age...nigh on 93.
Eternally, I'll rest beside Bess...
...on my GRAND MIRAMICHI.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.