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                              The Waders

 In Memory of Daniel Lynch

Daddy was but a boy when he followed his heart

And from school he took his depart

Pulling on waders, clutching an oar

A young fisherman set off for the shore


His waders in green or black

Had proud necks and strong soles

That could wade through a mucky track

And squelch in swampy holes


Often by night he’d leave for the silent marsh

In all weathers fine and harsh

The crunch of waders on stony ground

Cut a lonesome sound


In the long hours out

Netting the waters for salmon and trout

Whilst lain in our beds safe and warm

A prayer he’d come to no harm


And for all the fishermen in overcoats

Heaving in rowing boats

Most made it home to their families asleep

The tragic few perished to the waters deep


Those waders once by the fireside heat

Warming their cold wet feet

Trekked on a voyage so hard

Yet reaped the simplest reward


Feasts of fish ‘n’ chips

Scenic boat trips

The beauty of an otter

By the edge of the water


Now I must wade through life’s mucky track

And squelch in swampy holes

To reach my goals

Keep on wading, never stumble back.


Paula Lynch

September 2006