The Springtime came, the Springtime went
The river's energy, completely spent
Twas the flood of twenty seventeen
The rockpile's buoy anchor rent
The buoy's task is very clear
To keep the boats from coming near
Now positioned down the lake
The rocky danger was unclear
To the rescue, three men came
Martin, Craig and Tom by name
The three were fearless, brave and true
They were not there to play a game
With motor boat and ropes and hooks
This was an effort for the books
An awkward struggle did ensue
That drew a crowd of cautious looks
The ropes were tangled in the trees
We thought that this would be a breeze
The boat was hardly any help
The struggle made us gasp and wheeze
Tom was hanging off the boat
Craig was pulling on the float
The trolling motor then turned on
Going home would get my vote
By now we'd put on quite show
The island crowd......They let us know
All were wet and muddy too
We finally had the buoy in tow
Back upstream to guard it's post
The rocks reclaimed their watchful host
Warning those who all go near
Here's the place you watch for most
Our story finished, the saga done
We thought at first it might be fun
Our effort epic, t'was quite a feat
Our cuts and our bruises are second to none!
Not too sure that I'll do that again (move the buoy or write poetry) but both were an experience!
See You at the Dock!
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