Ode to Lorne

Ode to Lorne

Teacher he, teacher me

A pupil of his, I would always be

 

What is that tree, up there so tall?

Didn't know then, now I know all

 

Oak, elm, poplar, beech, cherry and pine

Felled one by one and then split up just fine

 

Maple, it was, our favourite tree

Jewel of the bush lot in all majesty

 

Cut up for firewood or drilled for the tap

For birthing the sweet gold borne from the sap

A love of the outdoors drew us together

As we chased all beasts, fish and feather

 

Campfire on the Mattawa, banjo at night

But out on the deer stand by the first light

 

Off to the Mackey to chase what was loose

The black rock for Lorne turned into a moose

 

Memories of Bob, Fred and Lorne abound

But memories only, as they're not around

 

Many adventures we had in nature's outdoors

Experiences so great for one who explores                                

 

Forced to bivouac on a cross country ski

At 20 below Lorne slept under a tree

Thought he would perish and his boots they did freeze

Had to thaw by the fire, then on to the skis

 

Fishing on Lingham, we fished to the night

Nowhere to be found our set up campsite

 

Bivouac on an island with only bass to grill

No bedding or blanket  to stave off the chill

 

At dawn's first light we could find our right way

Another lesson learned but with a price we did pay

 

Saw, axe and guitar worked through his hand 

For firewood or music to play with his band

 

A fabulous work ethic, his energy relentless

Only a break to view the Young and the Restless

Trophies and medals plastered his den

Not just for 3 things but closer to ten

 

Concert at a legion, a young man approached

A former student, now an adult, who Lorne had once coached

 

This award to a teacher would top all the rest

Said "Of all my teachers, you were the best"

 

An accountant for sure, he could have been

Every cent, earned or spent, was there to be seen

 

He was an idea man and often a thought

Turned into music and lyrics that pleasure brought

 

A family man, in them he had pride

Raised a good brood, with Mary at his side

 

An Ottawa Valley boy, he's back home at last

A great life lived but now he has passed

 

Not to be forgotten his legacy not gone

As the youths that he taught still carry on

 

And pass on the knowledge and character Lorne gave

So the touch of this man goes well beyond the grave

 

Dave Bush

28 August, 2021