In a boat built of wood from the mountains of Maine.
With a keel of Pasture Oak Neptune himself couldn’t strain.
After a full days steam to the Nor’east Peak.
Eleven men will fish an eight day week.
Catching Scallops in both foul weather and fair they’ll toil the decks with twenty footers everywhere.
Shucking those clams while standing at the box the drags are hauled back stuffed full with rocks.
The Captain climbs down and says with a sigh, “Let’s finish up boys it’s time to fly”.
They step in close to hear what he’ll say, “It’s a Storm we have force twelve on the way”.
With all secure it’s time that they turn the great grey sea’s soon to boil and churn.
So go ahead storm give it your best they’re full ahead now bearing due West.
Plunging and plowing long into the night the Storm may lose this crews giving fight.
As the heavens above are being torn apart we find the crew to a man praying from the heart.
With first light come waves running forty plus feet so no rest’s to be had if the storm’s to be beat.
This grand old boat shudders struggles to rise as mountains of water try to claim one more prize.
With windows blown in water cascading inside this crew just won’t quit they keep bucking the tide.
After jumping the shoals then rounding the corner where they see, the hurricane barrier is not far off their lee.
And like a sparkling young maiden worriedly singing her tales from across that fetch the lighthouse horn wails.
Finally tied to the dock eleven weary men rest.
Iron strong men, New Bedford’s best!
edit on 08-19-2021 by PiratesCut because: pics