the old salt

the old salt

out-water on the er’ly
the first slip o’r the dawn
no time to downtown, Boys
no time to downtown, Boys
until thy work ‘st done

so man the eye, spy the cape
let rigs be jigs and let the soul ‘s be damn’d
for might the blessed sea-
provide the bounty such we seek
for skill and pride, for on luck ‘n shuck
with silent words and surl’y looks
pray! fill these hooks might we crown ‘t-day
no time for downtown, Boys
no time for downtown, Boys
until soaked ‘nd milked to the full on day

toil into that twilight-
under bark and bare and shipward slight
a reward of’ta whiskey might ‘et prepare
life in a shot (or two or three to spare)
if mig’t please the mistress of the sea
with her bounty bless’d one day next
no time to downtown, Boys
no time to downtown, Boys
’till paid is the toll
the toll in full t’ rest.

notes… sometimes things just pop in my head, I love the ocean, and fishing, and the almost romantic version of the history of such just offshore from here, people don’t think of New Jersey that way but we are, as usual this was scribbled into a pizza box of all things as I was driving home tonight, maybe it was the music, I am not sure, but I stopped really worrying about all that long ago, I just post the flow of what is going down this river powered by the universe, for I am just a channel, brought to life for a reason… at least that is the hope, and why not.

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