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Memories of Erinsville Twenty miles north of Napanee, You can travel by road or rail. Just over the hill from Tamworth Close by an Indian Trail. Hemmed in by farms, lakes and woods Immune from the city’s grind, A town that makes you feel superb, With worries left behind. And here we find the common folks Who see the best of life. Not loaded down with stocks and bonds, They are free from care and strife. Here people greet you with a smile, That drives all gloom away Changing scenes to meet your eyes Throughout the livelong day. The children swim where the Indian rowed, In his little birch canoe. They play “I Spy” and pluck wild flowers Where the big bears used to chew. Pitch your tent beside the lake, And tuck in for the night. Pleasant dreams will come to you. And mosquitoes will not bite. The stagecoach passed beside this place In the days of long ago. But now the motor sings a song And fields of alfalfa grow. Canadian memories linger still, While the days and months roll by. Seem to soothe the storms of life, Like a rainbow in the sky. The millionaire and professional, The middle man and the low Linked together in brotherhood As vacations come and go. Sweet voices ever come to me And familiar faces too. Where kindred spirits revelled long Beside the lake so blue. From the U.S.A. they come in groups, The sunburned and the fair. Canadian friendship is so warm

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The SCOOP • June / July 2018

WAYLEN CAR WASH

They love to tarry there. Palmetto stands beside the lake, Her dancing space so fine, The old and the young go there for fun When the stars begin to shine. A sea of autos parked around, From home and foreign land, Attest the magic of the spot Where you get the welcome hand. One night, the hall was crowded, And the waltzing at its best, A signal was given by the leader To take a little rest. Then a pianist’s delicate fingers Tapped o’er the notes at will. The dancers broke from partners And the hall at once was still.

Wash It All Here: Boats, Trailers, and ATVs Dave & Barb Way

CTY RD. 4, TAMWORTH

A man stepped on the platform, From the village choir, I’m told. He’d worked that day in the harvest And his face bore a tan of gold. Picking up the strains of the ballad With voice so soft and sweet He carried us off to ecstasy Where love is more than neat. We were thrilled with beautiful music, From fingertips to toes. And still I hear those old sweet strains Of “My Wild Irish Rose.” Erinsville, I’ll dream of you, On my Pennsylvania cot. Your fame and splendor will go on, Long after I’m forgot!

VANNESS AUTOMOTIVE TAMWORTH We do all kinds of vehicle & small engine repairs

— “Uncle Josh” (unknown), 1931 This poem about the Erinsville area was written by an American tourist in 1931 and given to Clare Neville (one of the early local families) and was recently discovered by a granddaughter. The “Palmetto” in the poem was the name for the Beaver Lake dance pavilion located on the shore of North Beaver Lake more recently referred to as O’Neill’s Dance hall.

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Profile for The SCOOP

The SCOOP // June / July 2018  

The SCOOP is an independent community newsmagazine. Since 2005, we have been covering rural life in the Ontario area north of the 401 and so...

The SCOOP // June / July 2018  

The SCOOP is an independent community newsmagazine. Since 2005, we have been covering rural life in the Ontario area north of the 401 and so...

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