Come along with me, a journey we will take
don’t worry, the time for the journey is short.
Just down this little narrow lane to the sea
Sure you can see the water from here, just look up.

I’ll point out a place or two along the road,
Just so you’ll know it wasn’t always this way.
Now, there is the spot where Uncle Bob’s house
once stood, the house that Larry and John
called home.

A little further on, past the
barrel stave fence with the older house in back
With too many windows to have always been a shed
It must have been a house one time.

Now, we have come to the place where
The house that no one ever lived in stood.
It was called the Green House only because
It was painted green, of course.
Two stories, four rooms up and down,
Why no one lived in it I do not know.

Another little lane. There was a big barn
just right there. The lane leads to
another big white house.
A lady lived there with her husband and two boys,
her older brother and sister too.
Had a jersey cow she milked twice a day.

Mind if I ask, have you ever had
A slice of homemade bread with partridgeberry jam
And fresh cream on top of that?
I tell you, Solomon and all his glory never ate as good as that.
But I have lingered too long,
The journey must continue.

There is but a short way to go and
Nothing on the other side of the lane
But empty gardens. On we go to the end.
But stop for a moment, and move aside,
That old lady coming with the funny wheelbarrow,
She’s my Nan. That little boy beside her, well, he’s…

What do you mean you can’t see them?
Sure that’s my fault. This is but a journey
Of the mind. They’re not really there.
For that matter, neither are you and I. But a journey,
Once begun, must come to an end somewhere.

This is the waterfront, ‘down below’
They called it here. Sure on both sides of this lane
Many buildings stood, each with its own purpose.
A shed to build a new boat in, or repair
An older one. Pounds for salt, lofts for storing gear.

Just there was a factory my Pop used to own.
Barrels of cod liver, rendered in the sun.
The smell was so strong. Can’t believe
People actually drank cod liver oil.
There’s the slipway where they launched
Their boats in spring, drew them up in fall.
It’s all gone now. The people too.

Likewise, our journey has come to an end.
There’s more that I could show you
In the other parts of the Cove. Perhaps
Some other time. But still, I’ll point out
The bank where I picked the blackberries
That make the duff. It’s just over there.
And there’s the beach where
The old lady and little boy filled their barrow with sticks.


Cyril Griffin
New Perlican, NL