Troubador

Now I've seen sights,
And I've been places.
I don't feel
My life's been wasted.

Haven't saved up
A lot of dough.
But I've got lots
Of scars to show.

And most of them
Have a tale to tell.
Just knew living hard
Was living well.

Some of my scars
Were self-induced.
Too much whiskey,
And living loose!

You want a story,
Or maybe a rhyme?
Just pour me a glass,
‘Cause I've got time.

Some of the stories
Are best left untold.
High times and youth
Can make a man too bold!

But back when I
Was a working man.
I'd do most anything
That required these hands.

I've fished the Bering Sea,
And in some rivers.
Worked big off-shore boats,
And little slivers.

I logged the Rockies,
As a teen.
Worked farms and ranches
In-between.

Delivered boats,
And drove a truck,
But fishing was where
I held my luck.

Did what was needed
To play my part.
But, always a fisherman,
In my heart.

A joke, a dance,
Or maybe a scuffle.
Just deal me in,
I was there for the shuffle.

But, now that I'm
Far down the trail.
They say move along,
You're much too frail.

So, here I am,
Rhyming words for you.
In hopes of supper,
When I am through.

David Densmore
1999

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