Many years ago when I was young
Outside to play was the greatest fun
Sun or rain it just didn't matter'
Far better than hear sister's natter
Best of all to play down by the creek
Wading there, shoes off not for the meek
With simple nets and jam-jars waiting
We scooped a fish up without baiting
Lucky if managed to catch just one
But we were here for the day's fun
When had our fill we shared out the catch
Each kid had jar to share out the batch
By this time clothes and shoes were quite wet
As no towel was brought; boys do not fret
We were scolded of course coming home
Boys don't take towels not even a comb
One fish I caught grew big, he went back
Before our cat thought he was a snack
Mum always moaned about our wet clothes
And muddy state of Bill's feet and nose
But Dad praised any fish we took home
He didn't care quite where we would roam
As kids and mud have long been best friends
However I washed up to make amends
Image found at https://live.staticflickr.com/1863/43870875324_b.jpg
Your poem reminds me of my son's boyhood. How he loved creeks and the lake. He started fishing in earnest at ten, and has never stopped.
ReplyDeleteMud does seem to remind one of childhood days.
ReplyDeleteKeeping Mama happy has been boys concern ever since we were boys. More time than not there hasn't been much planning ahead for that. Living on a farm it was just my sister and me out to play. We also went down to the creek.
ReplyDeleteRibin, I like your rhyme. It is a nice memory saved for telling.
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I can almost see the mom shaking her head at the muddy clothes, but inside as proud as the dad.
ReplyDeleteI loved being a child in the rain. We used to play sliding games, once the grass was wet... And few things were as awesome as swimming while raindrops gently pelted your head. Not too hard though, no one wants to be in a Caribbean river when the sky is wailing.
What a beautiful reminisce. Those were the 'fun old days' and so carefree as well. This poem had me smiling!!
ReplyDeleteJust love this. We would catch crayfish down by the crick. Mostly though we made traps for them in the mud, like little swimming pools, and left them down there. I can't imagine my mother's reaction if I had come home with a crayfish in a jar! Haha
ReplyDeleteHee-hee...I was the one playing in the creek with both my kids. I did make sure they were mostly air-dried or had a change of clothes ready back in the minivan.
ReplyDeleteThis reads like a great memoir: warm and welcoming. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteI would spend hours and hours in the creek, barefeet, cold. So much adventuring in the forest, getting lost, and only coming home to eat! Made me remember how much fun I had.
ReplyDeleteOh this is such a warm and heart-stirring write, Robin!❤️ It reminds me of the time when I was merely four in Muzaffarabad, Kashmir running up and down the hills, outside in the sun with my mom yelling at me to come inside haha ❤️
ReplyDeleteWell... I assume that dad didn't do the cleaning... could explain his focus on fish. :-) but it is a sweet story.
ReplyDeleteA sweet story
ReplyDeleteSweet, sweet memory. I wish we had those times again - when kids could juts have fun with what existed in their neighborhoods. I enjoyed reading about your fun childhood.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely glimpse of a carefree childhood!
ReplyDeleteSeriously sweet. Creeks and streams are truly special - my son has a favorite mountain stream (which is flash flood dangerous now) but fresh, cool water. I do have him wear special water shoes that help with the danger of the slippery rocks though:)
ReplyDeleteA rhyming, sweet childhood, Robin!
ReplyDeleteThose were the days! (Not only for boys ... though we girls did take towels.)
ReplyDeleteOh i had an aquarium growing up. Bought my fish in plastic bags of water
ReplyDeleteHappy you dropped by my sumie Sunday today
Much❤🕊❤love
A carefree childhood no longer exists.Thing of the past.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and sweet memories. Love it.
ReplyDeletethose were the glorious days before hand-held games. the poem brings back memories of my childhood days when we catch fishes in canals and the sea. and certainly it's not for the meek, we catch catfishes with our bare hands at the creeks and seas. :)
ReplyDeletethank you for such a delightful poem.
Love this... Mud was certainly one of my best friends.
ReplyDeleteNice words.
ReplyDeleteSo much fun and so many memories!
Great camaraderie & stories :)
I really disliked wearing boots as a young girl, preferred the feel of mud between my toes. My mother disagreed. Nice writing.
ReplyDelete