Year: 1878

| When 1 was a boy-I'm an old man now;
Look az the lines across my brow;
| Old Time has furrowed 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 IL life has reached December
| I'm not too old TO remember
! When went fishing with dad.
We would each of us shoulder our part OF tn
And joyfuIly start along the road


But dads was the heaviest share.
Out Of the village about a mile,
over meadow, across a stile,
And then we were almost there.
| Dear old brook, / can see II still,
The NOISY bank and the gay old mill,
| Where went fishing with dad.
| We would wander about for little space
| To find the cosiest, shadiest 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 could only feel as / used to then


If the days could only come back again,
When / went fishing with dad.
We armed our books with the wriggling bait,
Then seated ourselves on the bank TO wait
And see If the fish would bite.
sAofeIhmes 20 ,haIe they would only take @ Look
But couldn't be certain quite.


There was an old perch that 1 used to


think


Would always look at the line and wink,


When went fishing with dad.



And the morning hours were all gone by
And the village clock struck one.
81 I'M hungry, Jim" then dad would say;
"Let's give the fishes a chance to play
Until our lunch is DONE"


Oh, nothing has ever tasted so sweet


As the big sandwiches / used to eat


When went fishing with dad.
Then dad and would lie on the grass
And wait for the heat Of the day TO pass;
How happy used to feel
And what wonderful stories he would tell
q
After our midday meal


And how would nestle close to his side


To hear Of the world so big and wide,


When went fishing with dad.
For / eagerly listened to every word;
And then among men of whom heard
How longed to play paItl
What wonderful dreams of the future came,
What visions of wealth and an hOnored name,
To MI my boyish heart


There was no dream like the old dream,


There is no stream like the old stream


When went fishing with dad.
Then back again 10 our sport we'd go,
And fish till the sunsets crimson glow
Lit up The dying day;
Then dad would call 70 me, "Jim, wen stop;
The basket is full to the very top;
It's time we were on our way"


There are no ways like the old ways,


There are no days like the old days


When went fishing with dad.
Then we took our way through the meadow
And ciung so tight to his wrinkled hand,
As happy as could be.
And when the old house came In sight,
The smile on his old face grew so bright
As he looked down on me.


And no one smiles as he used TO smile,


And oh, IL seems such a long. long while


Since 1 went fishing with dad.
II is way, way back I'm the weary years
That with aching heart and falling tears
watched dad 90 away.
His aged head lay 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 went fishing with dad.
The world has given me wealth and fame,
Fulfilled my dreams of honored name,
And now am weak and old
The land is mine wherever i look;
can catch my fish with a silver hook
But my days are almost told.


Uncheered by the love of child or wife,


would spend the end of my lonely life


Where / went fishing with dad.
My limbs are weary, my eyes are dim
shall tell them to lay me close by him
Whenever come to die;
nd side by side IL Will be my wish,
That there by the stream where we used to fsh,
They will let the old man lie.


Close to him / would like to be,


Buried beneath the old oak tree


Where sat and nshed with dad.