Remembering when I was young,
When simple things were fun,
We’d work and find a way to play,
When all the work was done.

Those summer days of long ago,
Are clear in memory,
And still bring smiles of joyous times,
With friends and family.

The best of all that I recall,
Were days with fishing poles,
When friends and I and Yeller too,
Enjoyed our fishing holes.

We helped each other bait our hooks,
And fix our broken lines,
And then relaxed beneath the shade,
Of giant forest Pines.

Ole Yeller always went with us,
T’was fun to watch him play.
Sometimes he’d splash down in the creek,
And scare the fish away.

Sometimes we’d laugh and join the fun,
And get each other wet,
Forgetting why we dug those worms,
Which no one would regret.

Oh yes, it was a golden time,
Those youthful summer days,
And clear as glass, these mem'ries are,
Though youthful hair now grays.

Still cherished, are those memories
Of all we used to do,
For loved, those friends and family are,
And yes, Ole Yeller too.

© James O’Brien
May 2003