Me grandpa made a wooden boat
A little one with tiny sails
He carved me name into its hull
The finest toy I ever had
We let it in the river float
And then he told the wildest tales
The summer day was never dull
Me grandpa always made me glad
The boat would travel to the south
Through forest, field and swampy bog
The current pushing it along
To speeds no hobbit could obtain
And when it reached the river mouth
It would be lost in misty fog
And neither hobbit rhyme nor song
Could bring it back to me again
Out there the world is strange indeed
But wonder also waits beyond
Perhaps the boat would find a friend
Or reach the distant blinking stars
The boat would sail at lightning speed
Across the mountain, under pond
To rest beneath the rainbow’s end
Where biscuits wait in golden jars
Me grandpa smiled and stopped his tale
What happens then, I asked of him
He winked and held up in his hand
A fresh-baked golden biscuit sweet
And through the summer, without fail
No matter if the rain was grim
The day would always end up grand
Whenever he and I would meet
A box of old and dusty things
A whittle knife all red from rust
I close me eyes and swallow hard
Me sweet old grandpa passed away
No stories more of far-off kings
No biscuits more with golden crust
No hugs when we meet in the yard
The summer never felt so grey
But still, I have his wooden boat
That once was cut from oaken log
I smile and hold it in my hand
Then let it go and wave farewell
Through currents wild it stays afloat
It passes through the misty fog
And crosses to the summer land
Where friends who leave us go to dwell
A pleasant, lush and lovely land
Beneath a warm and sunny sky
Where rainbows always mark the spot
Of golden biscuits free for all
And there the boat is in his hand
He smiles to me and waves goodbye
And I remember all he taught
Of summer days and stories tall
More about the writing of the poem here.
