Lawrence Hall
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Farewell to an Old Comrade
He yaf not of that text a pulled hen
That seith that hunters ben nat hooly
men
-Chaucer, Prologue, 177-178
A
man visits his pal in the hospice room
Two
great old pals, best friends from boyhood
In
school and in the Army together
Best
men at each other’s weddings long ago
Hunting
trips, laughter, campfires, and coffee
They
tramped the woods and fields into old age
Until
the arthritis house-bound them at last
But,
peace:
A
good man whispers farewell to his dying friend:
“I
remember our tramps through the mists on the moors –
And
can I have that fine old Purdey of yours?”
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