Auld Pier
A stan an face the smirr
that laces a northern wun,
an listen tae the call
o a gull as it hings
abin the auld pier.
Yince, a wid come doon here,
an watch the fishing boats
disgorge thir bluided crates
o cod an crab an tope,
thir takins fir the day.
A’d listen tae the cries
o gulls an fishermen,
The jingle o tall masts,
the cough o waitin trucks,
the slap o wave and rope.
The boats have gone lang since,
thir catch no worth the chase.
Auld ties hae broken doon,
an the loch his emptied
intae a changin sea.
Hi Derek, not much chance of local fishing fleets coming back these days, what with conservation etc. Interestingly, some Scottish boats are heading off to base themselves in Ireland in order to simplify things a bit post-Brexit.
The passing of a way of life . . .
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Life’s tide at the ebb,
perhaps to return to the flood one day.
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Hi Derek, not much chance of local fishing fleets coming back these days, what with conservation etc. Interestingly, some Scottish boats are heading off to base themselves in Ireland in order to simplify things a bit post-Brexit.
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