The Last Scattering of Jim

The Scattering of Jim

There are strange things durn
With the ashes in the urn
By the Family of which we tell:
The torrents of Wales
Have their secret tales
And the rivers of the Glens as well;
The pond by the reeds
Has seen odd deeds
None odder than happened to him:
He was one when alive
But now he is five
For this is the scattering of Jim.

Now Jim Robin-son
Was from Rushden To’n
Where the cobblers used to cobble;
As a lad in his youth
He sought the truth
As to why a float will bobble,
And also why
A particular fly
Would cause a fish to strike,
And too which spinner
Would prove a winner
To lure the perfect pike.

He spent his life
With Kate his wife
By waters rushing and still;
He dipped his line
In fresh and brine
And the pond beside the mill;
And to the last
And on and past
His life was one with water;
And so it’s neat
That his son Pete
And Bev his only daughter
Cast his ashy line
Just one more time
Upon the waters shining,
Because for a while
We couldn’t smile
But here’s the silver lining:
He may be scattered
But it hasn’t mattered
He’s chuckling in our minds -
He’s now more alive
That one who’s five
So thanks, dear Jim – tight lines.