Year: 1878

When was boy-I'm an old man now;
Look at the lines across my brow;
Old Time has furroughed them there.
MY back is bent and my eyes are dim;
He has placed his finger on every limb.
And pulled out most of my hair.


But if life has reached December


am not too old to remember


When went fishing with dad.
We would each ofus shoulder part af the load
And joy fully start along the road
Hut dads was the heaviest share.
Ont of the village about mile,
Over the meadow. across a stile,
And then we were almost there.


Dear old brook. I see il still,


The mossy bank and the gray old mill.


Where went fishing with dad.
We would wander abont for a little space.
To find the shadiest and coziest place,
Before We went to work.
Then dad would arrange his rod and line
And tell me how to manage mine
When the fish began to jerk.


II l could only feel as I used to theni


II the days could only come back again,


When l went fishing with dad.
We armed our hooks with the wrigslinx bait,
Then seated ourselves on the b nk to wait
And see il the Ash would bite.
Sometimes they would only take look,
As il they thought there might he q hook,
Rut couldn't be certain quite.


There was an old perch that used to think


Would always look at the line aLd wink,


When went fishing with dad.
And so we fshed till the sun was high,
And the morning hours were all gone by
And the village clock struck one.
I" am hungry. jim. - then dad would
{" Let us give the fishes a chance to play
I'm II our lunche IN is done"


Oh, nothing has ever tasted so sweet


As the big sandwiches used to eat


When 1 went fishing with dad.
And wait for the heat of the day to pass;
How happy used to feel!
And what wonderful stories he used to tell,
To the eager boy that he loved SO well.
After our midday meal.


And how could nestle close by his side


To hear of the world SO big and wide.


When 1 went fishing with dad,
For eagerly listened to every word;
And then among men of whom hoard,
How longed to play \ part
What wonderful dreams of the future came,
What visions of wealth and an honored name,
TO I'LL my boyish heart?


There is no dream like the old dream.


There is no strerm like the old stream.


Where went fishing with dad.
Then back again to our sport we'd 60.
And fish till the sunsets crimson glow
Lit up the dying day;
Then dad would call to me. ''Jim, we'll stop;
The basket is full to the very top;
It's time We were on the way.


Nt.Arx I. n


There are no days like the old days.


When went fishing with day.
Then we took our way through the meadow


land.
And clung so tight 10 his wrinkled hand,
As happy as l could be-
And when the old house came in sight,
rhe smile on his old face grew SO bright
As he looked down at me-


And no one smiles as Ire used to smile.


And OH it seems such long long while


Since went fishing with dad.
It is way, way back in the weary years
That with aching heart and falling tears
watched dad go away.
His aged head laido on my breast
When the angels called him home to rest
He was too old to stay,


And dug grave meath the very sod


That my bOyish feet so often trod


When l went fishing with dad
The world has given me- wealth and fame,
FULFILLED my dreams of an honorcd name,
And now am weak and old;
The land is mine wherever look;
can catch my fish with a silver hook;
But my days are almost told.


Unchecred by the love of child or wife,


would spend the end of my lonely life


Where went fishing with dad
Ny limbs are weary, my eyes are dim:
shall tell them to lay me close by him
Whenever come to die;
And side by side it will he my wish,
That there by the stream where we used TO fsh,
They will let the old man lie.


Close by him would like to be,


Buried beneath the old oak tree,


Where 1 went fishing with dad.