An Ode
An Ode to a group of Retirees who
changed my understanding of Friendship.
Some fifteen years ago, about this time
Retired and restless men still in their prime,
Had an idea, the gumption and the grasp,
To build new trails and bridges that would last.
The seven souls from every walk of life,
Took to the forest each Thursday, morn to five.
They carried tools and axes - Toni had the power-saw,
Richard, the scout was far ahead and we followed in awe.
The path they picked was neither clear nor down to earth
Often Roger asked to halt for structures or a bridge to traverse.
Then down we got to cross the stream.
The power-saw began to hum and scream,
And sweating men chopped with their adze and blade
They worked for hours until the bridge was made.
Great fires roared with fragrant smoke,
John kept the watch by giving it a frequent poke.
No slouching until ten inch spikes held down the deck
And hand rails, kick boards, wire mesh met the inspect.
Somehow along the day and no one knows just why
The stomachs growled and lunch was justified
One rarely met a gentler, healthy active band,
No ill spoken word, always ready to give a helping hand;
When Roy was in despair for dropping down his hearing aid,
The crew fell to their knees and searched to help their mate.
The trails reached further and the structures grew
Bill bought the power drill it made life easier for the crew.
Not to get lost they needed signs
Here Forest Service came around and sprung a dime
What you now see along the Sunshine Coast,
Are well marked trails and bridges upper most.
It sprung from thoughts to help Powell Riverites,
And came from the BOMB Squad’s immense foresight.
As time passed by we use their paths
And walk with joy our land so vast.
Some wonder what became of those inventive ones
To tell the truth their power waned, their work was done
Though stranger think, the idea took hold
New retirees venture forth to fill the mould
Still every Thursday rain or shine
New Bloody Old Men work the trails and realign.
Helmut Godau December 2004.
An Ode to a group of Retirees who
changed my understanding of Friendship.
Some fifteen years ago, about this time
Retired and restless men still in their prime,
Had an idea, the gumption and the grasp,
To build new trails and bridges that would last.
The seven souls from every walk of life,
Took to the forest each Thursday, morn to five.
They carried tools and axes - Toni had the power-saw,
Richard, the scout was far ahead and we followed in awe.
The path they picked was neither clear nor down to earth
Often Roger asked to halt for structures or a bridge to traverse.
Then down we got to cross the stream.
The power-saw began to hum and scream,
And sweating men chopped with their adze and blade
They worked for hours until the bridge was made.
Great fires roared with fragrant smoke,
John kept the watch by giving it a frequent poke.
No slouching until ten inch spikes held down the deck
And hand rails, kick boards, wire mesh met the inspect.
Somehow along the day and no one knows just why
The stomachs growled and lunch was justified
One rarely met a gentler, healthy active band,
No ill spoken word, always ready to give a helping hand;
When Roy was in despair for dropping down his hearing aid,
The crew fell to their knees and searched to help their mate.
The trails reached further and the structures grew
Bill bought the power drill it made life easier for the crew.
Not to get lost they needed signs
Here Forest Service came around and sprung a dime
What you now see along the Sunshine Coast,
Are well marked trails and bridges upper most.
It sprung from thoughts to help Powell Riverites,
And came from the BOMB Squad’s immense foresight.
As time passed by we use their paths
And walk with joy our land so vast.
Some wonder what became of those inventive ones
To tell the truth their power waned, their work was done
Though stranger think, the idea took hold
New retirees venture forth to fill the mould
Still every Thursday rain or shine
New Bloody Old Men work the trails and realign.
Helmut Godau December 2004.