|Nanook's River Poetry|
I heard the tempting siren call,
dreamt once more the elusive dream
of the bliss I miss the most of all,
sunshine on a secluded stream.
I listened to the time-worn tales
of adventures far and free
up and down fair river vales.
Despaired my dream might never be.
I sat by campfires from dusk to morn
heard the rant of many a river rogue
spinning yet another tall yarn
T'was then I learned of Bartibogue.
Memories were faint, whispers barely heard,
no one knew more than teasing noise.
Then my fervent prayers were answered
by the grace of the good ole boys.
Come right on up, they said to me.
We'll fix you up, not another word.
Helping a fellow canoeist will be
our treat, just pay'n' it forward.
They drove us to the river's put-in,
we shared many a tale and joke.
They helped us load and set our boats in
the narrow, twisting Bartibogue.
Sunshine on an alder rill,
songbird's sweetest tree-top trill.
Sunset's tender, tranquil thrill.
Bartibogue, you call me still.
Nanook of the
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