Wail Of The Shut-In

Don’t you know the snows are melting,

And the warm spring rains are pelting,

And the ice will soon be rushing

Down the mountain torrents gushing?

Don’t you know the trout are starting

For the foamy waters darting?

Can’t you hear the waters falling,

With their calling, calling, calling?

Can’t you leave your daily labors

To your careless friends or neighbors,

Leave your office in a hurry

Bid goodbye to care and worry,

Take your rod and reel and scramble

Out amongst the brush and bramble,

Where the foamy brook is falling,

With its calling, calling, calling?

March 9, ‘08