The Fisherman

Submitted by Baz

Should I go down to the sea again, to find my ill spent youth,
Whence I would spend my working life, learning a hard truth,
"The sea is no-one's mistress, lad", the Cox would say to me,
"But if you once answer her call, here's where you're going to be!"

A fisherman's a basic type, a'beaten by the weather,
With hardened face o' wrinkles, and hands of prime cut leather,
But look inside and be surprised, by that man's constitution,
A heart that's kind and caring, with an iron resolution.

These men of steel with velvet hearts provide your supper table,
In seas and storms they toil for us, simply because they're able,
So when you next have fish to eat, beg simply to agree,
That you are thankful without doubt, for people such as he.

With this my poem's at it's end, there's nothing more to say,
The fisherman repairs his nets at the end of the day,
He shares a pipe or two and talks quietly with the others,
Oh, how I miss the total bliss of sharing with my brothers!


Illustration courtesy of Issac

RIYAN Productions