Bambies Poem by Jonathan H. Scott

When night has fallen and the air is still,
And flit the fireflies about the hill,
Before the moon decides to show his face,
Before the day is gone without a trace,
I'm taken back to when I was a boy,
When youthful hearts were full of youthful joy,
Where baimbies sweet grew red upon the vine,
And what was mine was yours and yours was mine,
Where, by the river, we would bait our hooks,
And proper girls would cast their dirty looks,
When, with old Duke, we'd camp among the trees
And smell the coming rain upon the breeze,
Or to the bats we'd make some nightly jaunt,
And when the witch's eyeball rose to haunt.
Though slow the summer days would sometimes pass,
No thing could beat the splendor of the grass
And, barefoot, running with my brothers two—
Oh, Dave and Jimmy, this I write for you!