North Shore Memories is a poem about the Restigouche area
Please let me explain first of all about this poem. It was written by Monty Murray of Tide Head, N.B.. Mr. Murray was at Normandie on D Day, he was on that beach .. and spent many years in the forces during the war. While our boys were over there, they use to recall and speak of home according to seasons. For example, in the spring they remembered friends or family members by remembering them standing on the beach at Tide Head or on the Campbellton Wharf watching the ice run or on the islands picking fiddleheads, in the fall they remembered that brothers, uncles and others were out in the woods with its coat of many colors, hunting deer or partridge etc........
When Monty came home from the war he went to work as the "Left handed Plumber" on the C. N. R. and one day as he went on a trip from Matapedia to Gaspe, he wrote the first two verses of this poem. He said it took a few tries to make it what it is today, as it has been changed a few times to get it just right. Thinking of how it was while he was overseas. Here is what he came up with :)
NORTH SHORE MEMORIES
When memory keeps me company and moves to smiles or tears
A part of northern New Brunswick looks through the mist of years
Along the Restigouche and Kedgwick it's there for you to mount
It's ruled by God and mother nature and others that do not count.
You may come and see it often any hour of the day
The folks living near will bid you welcome just to pass the time away.
With its winter coat of whiteness you'll be longing just to go
To see this land of brightness lying sleeping in the snow.
Then in March with wind and sunshine with its long and yellow days
With the snow banks melting slowly and the river on the raise,
Oh the joy to see the ice run and the water high and wife,
There will be fiddleheads aplenty and a rain to soak your hide.
Then its time for you to linger by a half unmelted lake
When the trout are raising slowly and a limit you could take,
And at noon along the shoreline by a fire with some tea,
To see the waterfowl returningfrom the land beyond the sea.
As you sat and ate and wondered as a doe and kin did drink
For the hand of God was near you and you didn't have to think.
I have seen its roll of splendour where sleepy rivers run,
I have fished its lakes and river laying golden in the sun.
Then in August when the trout streams
Are low so you can wade
You can fish your heart's contentment
'neath the trees that give you shade
With September's painted hillsides God and mother nature's will,
Your mind would be unrested if you couldn't see it still,
With the hunting season started and your nerves are all aglow
Then you'll need a mighty reason if your work wouldn't let you go.
For there's partridge on the ridges,
A duck out in the lake
A deer up in the bogan
That is waiting for your take.
With November's frost and flurries,
When a rifle shot will ring
Near a beaver pond that's frozen
Ant it won't be thawed till spring.
This is the land that keeps calling,
This is the land of the free
Tomorrow maybe we'll be there,
If not, in fond memories..