Fox Marsh <br /> <br /> My mind casts back to childhood time<br /> When fishing was a past time of mine<br /> We would repair to our favourite haunts as a child<br /> Where we could be free and savour the wild<br /> <br /> We went by Newfie Bullett to a place that we knew<br /> Were dropped off at Fox Marsh by the friendly crew<br /> Not a soul could be seen for miles around<br /> When we scanned that familiar solitary ground<br /> <br /> To pitch our tent in wilderness places<br /> Where there were no familiar faces<br /> To roam Fox Marsh gullies and silently tread<br /> Along the shores with no real dread<br /> <br /> The sky above at night pitch dark<br /> With twinkling stars that set us apart<br /> The only real light we had to use<br /> Was a kerosene lanten bought at Fermeuse<br /> <br /> Our cookstove an old Coleman borrowed from Shawn<br /> Which did a great job with one burner gone<br /> No matress we had just small bough tips arranged<br /> To give maximus comfort without being changed<br /> <br /> The tent we used was a make shift affair<br /> But never seemed in need of repair<br /> And nary a leak did ever show up<br /> While we sat around waiting with our coffee cup<br /> <br /> But boy we sure slept as sound as logs<br /> After a full day tramping around on the bogs<br /> The mud trout we caught were free from loss<br /> When stored in a basket filled with damp moss<br /> <br /> Thus fond memories now flood my mind<br /> Of times long gone but cherished in kind<br /> Seems childhood memories come sharp and clear<br /> While what happened yesterday will never appear.<br /> <br /> John Cornick<br /> Halifax, Nova Scotia<br /> <br />   Submitted By: John Cornick