copyright Kristen Grainger 2020

He sat at the end of the counter, down by the toothpicks and Certs
His hands were missing some fingers, a few buttons left on his shirt

Around him the customers chattered, like crows on a telephone wire
Outside the traffic it clattered, like a sky full of geese drawing fire

Somehow, the man seemed familiar an uncle I’d known as a kid
I heard myself ask him to join me, I think we both were surprised when he did

He said, oh my fine young companion, run away from these big city dreams
Get you a house in the mountains, fish all those rivers and streams
Fish all those rivers and streams

He was born in the country, served in the Vietnam war
His brother came home in a coffin, without knowing what he give it for

He said, son, get your fair share of lovin,’ don’t be too much of a saint
Everyone says there’ll be more pretty girls coming along, but there ain’t

He said, oh my fine young companion, run away from these big city dreams
Get you a house in the mountains, fish all those rivers and streams
Fish all those rivers and streams

He lives in a house full of strangers, related by marriage or blood
Most days he cannot remember their names, some days he wishes he could

He said, oh my fine young companion, run away from these big city dreams
Get you a house in the mountains, fish all those rivers and streams
Fish all those rivers and streams