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Pop's Christmas adventure
''Twas the night before Christmas
And pop was out late
Jigging for codfish
With herring for bait.
I must get a feed
For St. Nicholas now
And milk in a glass
From Bessie the cow.
When all of a sudden,
the waters they broke
As tentacles rose from
the mist and the smoke
Pop feared for his life
as he looked into the eye
of a monstrous size squid
Not a word of a lie
Please don't kill me, he pleaded
But was quickly assured
that this squid would not harm
not even a bird
I must get home to my wife,
with this feed for Santa
The time it grows late,
so enough of this banter
You have access all year
to the whole of the sea
Find Santa a cod fish,
and perhaps one for me
And as quick as a flash
his tentacles they flew
and dropped in the boat
not one cod but two
Then using his tail fins
as giant propellers
he pushed pop's boat to shore
Quicker than all other feller's
As pop climbed the hill
and turned to wave goodbye
That monsterous old squid
squirted him right in the eye.
I sit at the window
I stand at the doorway
And look out at the beautiful land
I see it with my eyes, and I feel it in my heart
Wishing I could be here forever
To some, everything seems so still and lifeless
But if youâve lived here all your life
It is not still, and there is life
You just have to know where to go to find it
As each season changes, it awakens new wildlife
Which gives each man a yearning
To come home to this way of life
And make him feel whole once again
For there is no greater feeling than being up here
To our land that we call âWebbâs Bayâ
It takes me to a place in my heart
Where I want to live free each and every day
And it makes me feel proud to be staying in this home
Where once my Great Grand-Dad had slept
And for also my Grandpa â" to you both
I thank you for this way of living
You may not walk on this land anymore
But your footprints are here everywhere
So the next time you are here
Give yourself time for a thought
As you look out the window
Or stand at the doorway
Thank God for why you are here
My Newfoundland Things
Snowflakes on tree tops
and double knit mittens,
rubber boot slippers
and homemade fried tiffins,
my big yellow raincoat that's missing a string,
these are just some of my Newfoundland things.
Hard bread and codfish
and don't forget scruncheons,
britches are frying
my nose is a twitchin'.
What could be better to start off your day?
Do it up right the Newfoundland way.
When the rain pours
and I'm outdoors
but I'm miles from home
I just think of my Newfoundland things
and I just feel all warm.
The Fort McMurray Inferno
In Fort McMurray, where we did we dwell, for 28 years, it served us well
On the second of May, twenty sixteen, a fire broke out in the forest green.
The fire it grew, the flames went high, the smoke it spiraled from ground to sky
the firefighters knew, without a doubt, we have to lead our people out.
The word spread fast "You Have To Go", to the north or south we did not know
Our bags were packed, homes left behind, with kids and pets, we stood in line.
The city was colored with red and grey, like scenes from hell, we drove away
We did not know when we'd be back, to claim our lives in the great Fort Mac.
The men and women who fought that fire, blood, sweat and tears as flames grew higher
They saved our lives, they risked their own
We thank you for the courage you've shown.
In the months that pass, we'll reminisce of not what we lost, but what we we'll miss.
We will rebuild, we will survive
We have community spirit and Fort McMurray Pride.
Oh ,,,,,,,,, Newfoundland
Your in my heart
Oh ,,,,,,,,,, God ,,, above
Why did we part ???
Oh,,,,,,,,,,, Shining Sea
Where have you gone ??
Oh ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, babbling brook
From you I took,,, those trout so sweet on my fish hook
Oh ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Rippling water,,, bend down and take a swig
Get back up on your feet,,,, And dance a jolly jig
The music of your Atmosphere
Flows wild within my veins
The vison of your shores
Helps me restore my dreams
Oh ,,,,,,,,,,,, Newfoundland
Who ,,, am I ,,,,, ???
This poem was written in 2004 on a boat trip with my brother Lee Parmiter and my father Wes Parmter in Lee's boat, appropriately named "The Doghouse'. My sister Karen Parmiter and I had the pleasure of joining them at Beachside, Green Bay. It was the last leg of their week long excursion around the bay. Speeding from Beachside to Point Leamington on a beautiful summer day with Dad at the helm telling stories as he flew. Dad passed away in 2015 but the memories linger.
Doreen Parmiter Canning
At eighty-three he went to sea,
Sittin' in "The Doghouse".
Young at heart....sixteen smart,
He skimmed across the waters.
His face all rugged from his years,
We know he's in his realm.
And once again he is in control
Cause he's sitting "at the helm".
The rugged coastline stretched ahead,
The waters leaped and glistened.
He hugged the shores and cut real close,
He knew this land...we listened.
While memories flooded through his mind,
His tongue between his teeth.
He's forgotten about "these tired old legs",
And yes, his swollen feet.
Every inlet and each bay...a story he'd relate,
We listened so we could recall, and someday we'd repeat
A smile on his tired old face, then widens with a grin
He's happy now, he shouts with glee and calls out or' the wind
"Faster horses, younger women,
Stronger whiskey, more money!"
We all laugh..."Because we know
Old Sea Dog sails again.
A Birthday Poem for Me Fadder
Who wiped me arse when I was a babe.
Who smacked me arse when Imisbehaved.
Who taught me how to ride a bike,
And also showed me brudder and sister alike.
Who took me cutting wood almost every off school day.
Who laughed when I ran from a moose 50 feet away.
Who placed a bet on who was the fastest.
And broke his leg racing past us.
Who showed me a cord or two on guitar.
Who shaped me into this superstar.
Who put da chase on to spank me, lying little sh-t.
I hid under the bed so her pregger belly couldnât fit.
Well that was me mudder!
Who wiped my nose and tears when I cried,
When I caught da loser boyfriend in a lie.
Who drank like da fish but gave it up cold.
Who listened to me and mudder, like he was told.
Who stepped up when no one else did
And took on a fatherless little kid.
Who choose to be a Dad when no one else would.
And tried every day to be the best father he could.
By Tara Browne
The girls of the 5 and 10
This poem was written 92 years ago by my husband's grandfather, M.W. Tatlock
hope you can use it.
The girls of the 5 and 10
Although a man advanced in years,
I still think fondly of the dears,
That's why my heart is always sore,
When leaving Woolworths well known store,
And the girls of the 5 and 10
How their sweet and tender glances,
Recall bygone days and dances,
Oh' those eyes and Oh' those graces,
Oh' those curls and Oh' those faces,
Of the girls of the 5 and 10
What makes ones heart beat wildly so,
While the goods they deftly show,
And our hearts they break also,
As though they were composed of glass,
Those girls of the 5 and 10
They sell of course all sorts of things,
Cups and saucers, threads and rings,
And many things I cannot see,
They if asked will find for me,
Those girls of the 5 and 10
But of all the things that store contains,
I think at least all men with brains,
Would very quickly make their choice,
And all would cry as with one voice,
"It's the girls of the 5 and 10"
So Alice dear you'll quickly see,
What it is that worries me,
Small wonder then I say with pain,
Oh that I was young again,
With those girls of the 5 and 10
T'was The Diet Before Christmas
I wrote this poem in 2004...Enjoy
T'was the night before Christmas, I crept through the house
And searched for the cookies, avoiding the spouse
I keep off the hall light and prowled round with care
Hoping my thighs wouldn't knock down a chair
My pup and my honey were asleep in their beds
While I was here tearing a lettuce to shreds
I tightened my girdle, pulled up my chin strap
Opened the fridge and began to unwrap
I moved the cheese over and pulled out a platter
while sticking my finger in cookie dough batter
When all of a sudden I had a hot flash
I practically lost the whole works in the trash
The breast of my chicken was white as fresh snow
I placed it right next to my big sloppy Joe
Oh look, peeked my wandering eye..over there
Nice cobs of corn, for my favorite reindeer
I had to be careful, yet, quiet and quick
'fore hubby would catch me with dear old St Nick
Of course there was no one else but me to blame
I chuckled and worked near the blue candle flame
âï¿½ï¿½Now sweetie, my darling, my sugar, my vixenâï¿½ï¿½
He'd say all of that if he'd catch me here mixin
He thinks there's no Santa, Ohhh nooo, not at all
He'll be here, I thought, as I strained my tea ball
I squeezed out the whipped cream, some squirt in my eye
How pretty it looked on my blueberry pie
I jumped to the stove top to check on the stew
Not missing a lick of my chocolate fondue
Tomorrow I'd carry the burden of proof
Tonight I 'm just gonna sit down here and wolf
I ate all the chocolates and cakes by the pound
A swig of fresh eggnog helped wash it all down
I found myself tired but had to stay put
And added some garlic to fresh ginger root
I whipped up some h'orsdoeurves and just set them back
I'll eat them at midnight if I get an attack
My eyes were all red from my 1st Bloody Mary
So full, when I burped, that I popped out a cherry
When just out of nowhere I heard a "Hello"
I nearly 'bout choked on my gob full of dough
âï¿½ï¿½Any for me, dear ?âï¿½ï¿½ he smiled through his teeth
âï¿½ï¿½Shhhâï¿½ï¿½ I said, âï¿½ï¿½quiet, and have you a seat.âï¿½ï¿½
âï¿½ï¿½Been waiting here for you, here's stuff from the deli
And some of the cheese that you like, good 'n smelly.âï¿½ï¿½
âï¿½ï¿½Eat up now,âï¿½ï¿½ I whispered, âï¿½ï¿½ Got the place to ourselves
Oh yes here's some cookies for your Keebler ..uh elves.
Here's you some roast beef, and fresh sandwich spread
Hurry now, so I can creep back into bed.âï¿½ï¿½
âï¿½ï¿½Yes, thanks for the lunch,âï¿½ï¿½ he gave a sweet smirk
âï¿½ï¿½I'm full but it's time that I get back to work.âï¿½ï¿½
He put up his finger, wiped cream off my nose
Kissed my cheek, passed me his usual white rose
He looked me all over and gave a low whistle
âï¿½ï¿½Girl, your still so pretty, like the down of a thistle.âï¿½ï¿½
I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight
âï¿½ï¿½I'll see you next year...If you're up for a bite.âï¿½ï¿½