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Exploits
is often in my thoughts, since moving to Embree
The
years and years I spent there, keeps coming back to me,
I
think Exploits should be renamed, and called Richardville
As
only Richard and Lydia are living down there still.
I
remember the good old wigwam, where we had many a dance
With
George Jacobe's accorden, to make our feet prance,
Every
Christmas there were concerts in the Orange Hall
With
Christmas trees loaded with gifts big and small.
To
dress up as a janny was our delight
And
visit every home night after
One
thing in particular, of which I was very fond
Was
to go in skating on Peyton's pond.
When
a young boy, I had many a spill
While
riding my coaster down Lacey's Hill,
Some
Easter Sundays a few girls and boys
Would
go to Nanny's Hole Head to see the sun rise.
Sunday
school picnics on the Meeting House Hill
With
their games and races gave many a thrill,
Night
after night some boys could be found
Driving
works and yarning on the Devils Ground.
Every
spring when the harbour ice thawed out
We
would get on the small pans and copy about,
When
school was over we boys could be found
Out
jigging tomcods on Grebe Head Ground.
Schooners
by the dozens were anchored about
Each
spring were hauled down, and then trimmed out.
Some
schooners fitted out for the Labrador
While
the rest went fishing on the French Shore.
The
"Bullbird", the "Turr", and the "Mapleleaf" too
Scotch
Cure, Merry Widow, to name just a few,
The
Clyde, Home and Portia also the Prospero
Brought
freight, mail and passengers, long long ago.
The
Church Bells rang on Sunday, all through the year
Reminding
everybody it was time for prayers.
The
Orangemen held their annual parade, also the F.P.U.
They
usually had a tea in the Hall, with a concert too.
The
girls in Lower Harbour were a saucy lot
I
know, because I courted one, Fred Manuel's daughter "Dot".
I
would visit the forge when I was a boy
To
watch Alex Wells, the Blacksmith, make sparks fly.
We
would go to the Net Loft at least once a week
Get
in the linnet pounds and play "Hide and Seek",
During
summer evenings, as the sun went down
Fishing
punts sailed through the narrows, from the fishing grounds.
Down
in Tom Walls Harbour, there was Bill Pilley's mine
A
place we liked to visit sometimes when it was fine,
The
dock, the saw pit and the big steam pot
Were
more places we boy liked to visit quite a lot.
Year
after year when the drift ice came in
Men
and boys would go looking for seals to haul in,
When
the berries were ripe, off to Long Point we would go
And
each of us picked five gallons or so.
Of
all the different animals the people used to keep
There's
nothing left in Exploits now, but Richard's cat's and sheep.
No Part of this page should be used only
for personal use ___Thank You___
Researched; Designed;
and Posted by Cliff Lilly Little
Burnt Bay, NF. A0G 3B0
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