Relationships Matter Marketing Program

Buy great novelsSoul Lifter

The Book Marketing Network

For book/ebook authors, publishers, & self-publishers

"PAST PERFECT"...(A view of the YesterYears through Rose Colored Glasses) - Part 2

.
"PAST PERFECT", PART 2, narrated by fictitious
'One Room School House' teacher, Mr. D'Arcy McGee.

Year of Our Lord - 1922

Photo - Medville T. Driscoll fishing.

INTRO

"Clad 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."

PART 2

Fishermen, Farmers and Lumberjacks,
With sweat on their brows and ache'n backs,
Fished, sowed soil and chopped down trees.
T'was the only way, in those days...
...to feed big Families.

A jewel in the crown of this River Queen,
Is Emerald Village, my Gretna Green.
Here at Nellie's Brook, nestled away,
Is the One Room School House...
...of my YesterDays.

The school bell rang, piercing the air,
Warning the tardy "No time to spare"
Past hen coops and cows, run'n like hares,
Fearing they'd miss...
...morning Class Prayers.

Girls in hair ribbons, the lads, woolen hats
In desks with ink wells, in 8 rows, they sat.
The wee Aughts enjoyed a window with a view.
Their Day Dream'n suffered...
...when UP'd to Row 2.

At 9 o'clock, the old pump was primed,
To fill a water bucket for Recess Time.
Slurping from the dipper, each taking a turn.
"Share with each other"...
...was the Lesson learned.

RACER DON, Mrs. McAllister's oldest son,
Was a born talker and oh, he could run.
Chasing hares, squirrels, foxes...and "GIRLS"
Teasing and taunting...
...and pulling their curls.

Sprouting from homes, some nurturing 15
Each morn at the basin, scrub'n hands clean.
Dumped the Slop Bucket on their way to school,
In home sewn Hand-Me-Downs...
...with bellies fulla gruel.

Pale as ten GHOSTS, they ran all aghast
Into the school yard - faster than fast
For chug'n down the road for all to see,
Was a new Horseless Carriage...
...Ford called a "Model T"

Medville T. Driscoll, a lad, barely ten,
Arrived at school by horse and wagon.
For years he helped his Ma run the farm.
She now thought "A little school'n...
...would do him no harm."

A fence post tall with a Miramichi slur,
Under a tumble of red hair, came "Morn'n, Sir"
He soon settled down to learn the Three R's,
Fast asleep on his slate board...
...with his mind on MARS.

____________________

I'm eager to tell you 'bout the time,
Medville set fire to his fishing line,
But the hour is late... So, you'll have to wait.
WHO'S call'n me now? Oh, good...
...it's m' supper plate.



~~*~~


Deanna More/©Copyright 2006

Views: 18

Comment

You need to be a member of The Book Marketing Network to add comments!

Join The Book Marketing Network

Sell Your Books!

Book Marketing Blogs

About

John Kremer created this Ning Network.

© 2021   Created by John Kremer.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Terms of Service