How Rich Am I

I own a piece of Canada
On a winding country road,
A wide green lawn, a maple tree
An a blue sky to behold,
Ah, tis rich am I.

I own a sea of dandelions
All shimmering the colour of gold,
Where forget-me-nots and hearts ease
Argue for space to hold,
Ah, tis rich am I.

I own a little latticed deck
With wicker chairs covered in blue,
A purple finch sings at my feeder
A song that reminds me it’s true,
That rich am I.

I own a swing, a long one
That hangs right there in my view,
Where my grandbabies twirl in the sunshine
As my heart rejoices anew,
Cause tis rich am I?

I own a clothesline, a blue one
Where pink towels wave in the breeze,
I’ve time to sit and wave back
Thanking God for the life of ease,
Yes, tis rich am I.

Ah yes! I’ve a new pair of glasses
And libraries all over this land,
A china cup to drink tea from
And a brand new book in my hand,
Ah! Tis rich am I….



By Bernice Patterson

My Silly Little Poem

In the spring the rains assault us,
They're forever falling down;
In summer the sun from heaven,
Shines always on our ground.

The leaves fall every autumn,
And winter's snow, could cause us gloom;
But in Canada we're not worried,
For we've still got lots of room.

It's a really big country!! AH !
Bernice.

The World Has Passed Us By

We live in a little hamlet,
That sits right on top of a hill;
With a church, a store, a few houses around,
And a park to fit the bill.

Farmers pull their red, hay wagons,
As the traffic goes by with a buzz;
The world would say, it has passed us by,
And we sure hope it does.

Bernice Patterson

I Wish That I Was Irish

Oh I wish that I was Irish,
And that I was born that way;
I’d kick up my heels and celebrate,
On their St. Patrick’s Day.

I’d sport the wearing of the green,
And get others to sing along;
We’d all join hands and dance the jig,
To some dear old Irish song.

Chorus:
           But I guess I’ll have to face the facts,
           The truth I’ll have to see;
           I was born on the Isle of Newfoundland,
           I’m just an Irish wan-a-be.

I can sing Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra
And Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Lis;
Kiss the Blarney stone, drink Irish Cream
And sing Irish Lullabies.

I found that drinking Irish whiskey,
Wasn't the way to go;
And all those potatoes I consumed,
I'm still wearin don't you know.

Though I’m proud to be a Newfie,
And I sing old Newfie songs;
And when they strike up “Oh Canada”
I faithfully sing along.

Chorus:

I’ve searched and searched my family tree,
For my roots, from wentz hey haled;
But me fathers came from England
And me methers came from Wales.

My Very Own Leprechaun

I bought myself a Shillelagh,
And I pinned my Shamrock on;
And I thought I’d found a pot of gold
When I married a Leprechaun.

Chorus:

By: Bernice Patterson

From The Lady That Owned The Cow

I recieved from my mother, two of her souvenirs,
Both are dear to behold;
One is this sweet, little glass basket,
The other is the story she told.

She said when she was a little girl,
Back in Carbonear, Newfoundland;
She had an adventure, with her dad,
On a trip that he had planned.

He had to go, by horse and cart,
All the way to Heart's Content;
To buy for his family of seven kids,
A milk cow was his intent.

As the journey was long, they would stay overnight,
With the lady that owned the cow;
There came a look on Mom's face, of remembered delight,
A look I can still see now.

She said in the morning , they hitched the cow to the cart,
Before back on their journey they went;
The lady said good-bye,and with this basket she gave,
Two souvenirs of Heart's Content.

Mom treasured this basket all of her life,
And the story, that always made her glad;
But it wasn't the basket or the trip I know,
It was the special time with her dad.

By Bernice Patterson

Little Cracked Plate

                                                                                                                                                                                              .

I found a little cracked plate today,
Among my grammas precious things;
And thought me as I picked it up,
I heard angles fold their wings.

I  know there must be a story,
That this little plate could tell;
But now Gramma is gone and the  story too,
To know it, would be  so swell.

Now the plate belongs to me,
And I'll cherish it all of my days;
It will help keep Gramma close to me,
With her dear and precious ways.

By Bernice Patterson





                                                                                    

View From My Kitchen Window

First my hand and the glass ir holds,

Than the tablecloth with rainbow folds.

On the table in a cobalt vase, stand three yellow flowers

With such beauty I’m amazed.

Next comes the window big and wide,

Its many mullions my view cannot hide.

Then there’s the lawn brown now with spring,

And the wide old maples, where yet no leaves cling.

Beyond the lawn runs a little road,

That’s seen many a traveler with many a load.

Then the old cow fence on the other side,

Has a big farm gate now open wide.

The gravel pit is next where children once played,

But it’s quiet now its purpose betrayed.

Lovely green cedars march behind in a row,

Where have the children gone? Oh how quickly they grow!

A man on a bike just came coasting down the hill,

His faithful black dog, following after him still.

Behind the cedars a little meadow rests,

I wonder what’s grown there, what animal’s it's guest?

On the other side of the meadow meanders the lovely Blue Jay creek,

Where fisherman idles the hours as for trout and salmon they seek.

And off beyond the creek a dear little white house stands,

I'm told they welcome people from far and distant lands.

The trees on the horizon, right now look dull and gray,

But spring and her magic will drive the dullness away.

And behind it all the sky where the sun is trying to shine,

Oh the wonder of wonders, this lovely view of mine.

By: Bernice Patterson April 2009

Manitoulin Island, Ontario, Canada

I Wish that I was Irish ♣

Oh I wish that I was Irish,

And that I was born that way;

I’d kick up my heels and celebrate,

On their St. Patrick’s Day.

I’s sport the wearing of the green,

And get others to sing along;

We’d all join hands and dance the jig,

To some dear old Irish song.

Chorus:

But I guess I’ll have to face the facts,

The truth I’ll have to see;

I was born on the Isle of Newfoundland,

I’m just an Irish wan-a-be.

I can sing Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Loo-Ra

And Too-Ra-Loo-Ra-Lis;

Kiss the Blarney stone, drink Irish Cream

And sing Irish Lullabies.

Though I’m proud to be a Newfie,

And I sing old Newfie songs;

And when they strike up “Oh Canada”

I faithfully sing along.

Chorus:

I’ve searched and searched my family tree,

For my roots, from wentz hey haled;

But me fathers came from England

And me methers came from Wales.

I bought myself a Shillelagh,

And I pinned my Shamrock on;

And I thought I’d found a pot of gold

When I married a Leprechaun.

Chorus:

By: Bernice Patterson

Set to the Song Too Ra Loo Ra Loo Ra