Recollections of my childhood

In my mind are apt to stay

May I share some happy memories

Of my Branch, St. Mary's Bay

 

As a child I still remember

Looking through my bedroom pane

So thankful for my home up in

The winding Rocky Lane

 

Life was uncomplicated then

One just lived from day to day

Take me back to the Rocky Lane

In Branch, St. Mary's Bay

 

I often woke at daybreak

On an early summer morn

Not by habit, clock, or rooster

But called by the fog horn

 

I still can hear the putt-putt

Of the skiffs going out the bay

Up around the Hayjer's Rock

On their way to Golden Bay

 

And hear them coming back again

With that same familiar putt

Waiting their chance to cross the bar

And go on in the Gut

 

I have memories of the Gut

Yes, it's left its share

Smells of creosote, twine and cod

And the tang of salt sea air

 

In my mind, I see the Landwash

And hear the seagulls shout

Where we played around the Boiler

When the tide went out

 

The June sun was often absent

But there was something better

The gulls would echo through the fog

Come on! It's caplin weather

 

Those little silver-coloured fish

For which we had been waiting

To throw themselves ashore each year

In their funny way of mating

 

Knee-deep in sand and caplin spawn

Breathing the fragrant air

It was not so much the catching

It was fun just being there

 

And Branch River, constant waters

Like the blood in the Branch race

It will never cease to wander

Through the heartland of the place

 

And the Flats? Are they the same

Around which Branch River flows

Where we lay when weak from swimming

Where women spread their laundered clothes

 

That same river, when in winter

In its slippery solid state

Turned us all to young Hans Brinkers

When we fastened on our skates

 

All the landmarks on the river

Named by men we did not know

Otter-Rub and Salmon Hole

Seven Spruce Trees and Darby Bow

 

Our Irish kin, whose blood we boast

The race  that is such a rarity

How they used wit and imagination

When leaving names to posterity

 

And those lovely hills and pathways

Where we youngsters loved to roam

Like goats upon a mountainside

We explored the Wester' Cove

 

Up and down the Cock O' Wee Path

'Round every rock and point and bend

Not a worry in the world

Thinking life would never end

 

Peaceful Gully rushing downward

Babbling out its joyous song

Children, live your happy childhood

For too soon it shall be gone

 

Now I think I hear the swishing

Of the scythes going to and fro

As they mowed Neil Power's meadow

In the Wester' Cove long ago

 

A most fulfilling highlight

To a sunny August day

A ride along a bumpy road

Upon a load of golden hay

 

As the hands of time do quicken

Little things mean much more

Like the delightful taste of candy

In Mrs. Bridget Lucy's store

 

We could feel our senses tingle

From our heads down to our socks

To partake of apples from the barrel

And sweet biscuits from the box

 

We couldn't play much baseball

But we had sports sufficient

And in the game of cat-stick

We became quite proficient

 

Our homes had no electricity

We had no TVs at all

Just a movie shown once a week

By John Dohey, in the hall

 

To meet our education needs

High standard was the mode

I can't forget and I'll never regret

School days on the Lower Road

 

When it came time to worship God

Our folks, they left no gap

In rain or snow, you had to go

To the church upon the Knap

 

With a scant supply of money

We were rich in every sense

Wealth was measured in happiness

And not in dollars and cents

 

I often think of bygone friends

So full of youth and mirth

We have gone our separate ways

A few have slipped this earth

 

All have crossed the Bridge of Youth

Over Life's Golden River

Our way of life has surely changed

But Branch goes on forever

 

Childhood years may fade away

But it helps to remember

God gives us memory to ensure

June roses in December

 

 

Marina is the daughter of the late Mrs. Aggie (Mooney) and Mr. John

Branch Come Home Year

August 9-19, 2007

MEMORIES OF BRANCH

Marina (Power) Gambin