About Me

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Gladwin, Michigan, United States
Eugene Fritcher was born in Gladwin, Michigan in 1928. He has been the subject of many articles regarding his views on preservation of lakes, rivers, wildlife and forest land. The author lived an extremely active life in his younger years, and through his many jobs, acquaintances and his own experiences, he has gathered a multitude of writing material.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

BLACK RIVER SWAMP


While hunting in the black river swamp, became lost as I could be
Stumbled upon a fur-clad bearded gent, said his name was Lee
He was puffin on a homemade cigar, smelled like skunk cabbage leaves
Shook hands, then sat down to rest on a fallen cedar tree

I asked for directions, which quickly he pointed out with ease
Just face the wind, follow the sun, check the moss out on the trees
Before I left, on question yet, what would his answer be?
When asked what he was doing there?, this story then relayed to me

There’s too many cars, pollution scars, and cruel society
Rumors of war, terrorist plots, we’ve lost our sanity
It made me sore, couldn’t take more, longed to be free
Headed for the black river swamp, to find my privacy

Took along a saw, axe, candle wax, a change of dungarees
Jumped bog to bog, crossed the river on a log, left no trail to see
Built me a shack, on a little hog-back, carved my initials on a tree
Grew me a beard, sure looked weird, changed my identity

Got bullets, backer, a coon hound tracker, swamp life is for me
Eat roots, berries, wild grapes and cherries, all of them are free
Time to stroll around, with my old coon hound, better it can’t be
Chew spruce gum, sit and hum, while I drink my wintergreen tea

Set beside little black creek, the blue jays talk to me
Grass lands loom, flowers bloom, birds sing sweet harmony
Where bear is king, whip-poor-will sing, all keep me company
I have no clock, time means naught, when living the life of ease

Winters long, nights are cold, at times it’s misery
Snuggle up to my old coon hound, he always sleeps with me
In a few short weeks spring will bring, mosquitoes, flies and fleas
They don’t stay long, then they’re gone, your troubles never leave

Summer days will come, the swamp will hum, nature’s activities
Turtle, coot, porky-pine soup, again my delicacies
Love my shack, can’t go back, I’ve found my liberty
When they find my bones, leave them alone, so the porky-pines may feast

Sooooooo long

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