With winter knocking at the door
Old Linn Pier is piled high on the shore
While in the hearth the embers glow
Deep blue skies warns of snow
The easy chair and a book or two
for my Outdoor Life will have to do
Oh! now and then I'll take a walk
If only to hear the Mrs. Squawk
These old bones can no more take
The winter sports of ski and skate
Those glorious days forever could not last
But the contentment shall - In the days of the past.
The Old Fisherman
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