"We wed too young, Miss Nell and I," he said.
"in those hard highland times of long ago.
A Bible lifetime's passed since Nellie fled.
What life she found I 'spect we'll never know."

The sun was setting where the ruddy smog
was hanging leaden o'er town and mill
the murky deep gave off small threads of fog
as leafless trees stood silent in the chill.

The old one said, "best never miss a day"
and took his creaky rowboat to the lake;
he'd smoke and fish and nod, betimes he'd pray
and watch the gentle ripples of our wake.

The floodbreak earthen dam was steep and tall
the barren lake was cold and fearful deep
the State would stock the bass, but they grew small
at times Gramps caught a fish he'd never keep.

His second wife was tall, and tan, and lean
she raised his kids and their kids stern and well
My poppa joked and said her God was mean
she kept them off that broad bright road to Hell.

But she told me, the throwback one, to hold
a secret until he and she were dead;
a hundred fathoms down in black and cold
the water kept sweet Nellie's curly head.