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