A Fisherman’s Memories

This small quiet village so peaceful and serene
Ebbs a seafaring history on each tide that has been
To recall rugged faces, their names bring a smile
The stories they told made you linger a while
Cannings Mc Cormicks Cavanaghs too Kelly’s and Farrens to name but a
A hard life was fishing in an open drontheim boat
No shelter above them, just a black oilskin coat
To row around Shreeve Head was no easy task
Then begin baiting fish hooks and shoot the line fast
No hot food to heat them on cold winter days
Those hardy old sailors battled on through the waves
Haul in the catch, this all done by hand
Then row again homeward to their folk anxious on land
The seasons of herring and salmon now gone
Ready sails for Regatta, now the rowing’s for fun
Scotch visitors here! A song and a stout
Many’s a tale then told from those characters about
Then in came the engines, out went the sails
Decked boats with wheelhouses to weather the gales
The son’s of the fathers nowtaking the wheel
The vessels being built now have a much longer keel
With sonars and radars, navigational aids
The drontheim and yawl from the memory fades
For in local waters the fish have dispersed
Our trawlers must steam further a catch for to search
In days gone by each trip took a day
But today fishermen spend from four to ten away
I know these old mariners would surely agree
As they watch these fine trawlers head out to sea
There’s a beauty about them as they rise in the swell
When the sea ‘ s in your blood your soul you would sell
To work aboard a boat once more
But this time pull no heavy oar
Then watch in wonder in the modern age
But fondly remember as the drontheim fades.