'Twas two weeks before Christmas. in 1919
The Doran's rejoiced with their new wee colleen.
The stockings were hung in Toronto with care
You were christened Marie, then soon moved from there.
To Montreal you came, to grown up in the city
A sister and playmate for Tom, Peg and Ernie.
Your summers n Stellerton, so close to the sea
Unpasteurized milk, and bovine TB.
A taste of the farm life and tending the lambs
Respect for the bears, picking berries for jams.
Salty adventures with memories to keep
The ocean your playground, putting lobsters to sleep.
And so you grew up, learning left hand from right.
In grade school the nun's then St Leo's in sight.
Then more rapid than eagles, your courtiers they came
'Til your brother's best friend, Tom was his name.
Romance, a wedding, events full of joy
The apartment in Mount Royal, a wee baby boy.
To Springfield in Westmount, there's much to be told
The Park, and the Trains, three more to the fold.
Our home with the Moose, need we say more
Its head was in Gramp's house, the rest was next door.
We packed up and moved west, to Valois we came,
Our own home, wonderful neighbours, we called them by name
The Ellis', Hope's. and the Randall's too,
The Bonser's and Hicks, to name just a few.
And out on the traffic circle, there arose such a clatter
You often came out, to see what was the matter.
With Bob on the chest of the new fallen Paul
Joan thumping big guys, Brian in the thick of it all.
Here Paddy was born, a happy wee elf
We giggles and laughed, in spite of our self.
Each summer to Vermont, our hears filled with glee,
At first sight of the Country Water, alas, your Rousse's Point shopping spree.
The cottage that was ours, it had a green door,
The outhouse and water pump, the trip to Joe's store.
Two weeks at the Country just wasn't enough
So Dad commuted, it must have been tough.
Each Wednesday and weekend, Dad would appear.
Through Customs, with toys for the Kiddies, and two cases of beer.
How you managed through this, it is so hard to tell
All by yourself, two kids in diapers, three more raisin' hell.
I have many memories of the days at Isle La Motte,
Of games that we played, and all that you taught.
Our walks to the shrine, for sunrise Mass
Then row to the point to look for rock bass.
The snack bar and bonfires, then tucked into bed
While visions of sunsets danced in our heads.
Moving westward again, Erindale bound
To the big house on Flynn, with adventure to be found.
Scouting and skiing, Credit River exploring
And hockey practice, at four in the morning.
You always. made Christmas as special as could be
Lights on the railing, gifts piled by the Tree.
The Night Before Christmas, the book by the fire.
Your fashion revolution, in turkey cooking attire.
Our growing up years, testing your rules
Sharing friends and your cars, then leaving for schools.
Through our own ups and downs, we tried to pick up,
Something you showed us, is not to give up.
You have much to be proud, as a Mum and a wife
Of all the years past, your five Miracles of Life.
Our albums are bulging, fond stories to tell
Of seventeen Grand Kids and Grand Dogs as well.
Here we all gather as one large family
Some call you Mum, and some Grannie Ree
Whether gathered around you, or with Tom up above
There's one thing that's constand, your unconditional love
BOB
