A Fisherman's Dream

The shimmering lights bob to and fro
On the silky moonlit sea,
Oh what a sight to watch the skiffs,
With them I’d love to be.

Alas I only can look out
From my home along the shore
And ponder on the way we fished
In bygone days of yore.

We scanned the sea from Kilhorne Bay
As far as the Valley Road,
Watching for the ‘hog’ at work,
He was to us a beckoning code.

When evening came and the ‘hog’ we’d seen,
To the spot we’d all set sail
In the hope of landing a bumper catch-
And seldom did we fail!

We’d shoot our nets and then lie still,
Waiting for the hern’ to mesh,
And all the while we’d have some grub-
Tea and soda bread all fresh.

When time it came to lift our nets
Each man to his task would go.
Hauling and shaking the fish in turn
It made the old blood flow.

Then back to Annalong we’d head
Proud of the catch we had on board,
And as we entered the harbour mouth
You’d hear that echoing word:

“He’s 20 cran of hern’ at least,
Aye, and maybe a few cran more”,
As to our house my wife would go,
Along the rugged shore.

Waiting for me when I reached home.
Was a bowl of beef and broth,
Washed down by a cup of hot, sweet tea
As I wiped my chin with a cloth.

Skiff fishing today’s not quite the same
Now the boats have modern gear,
Yes, time have changed so much indeed
Talk of the ‘hog’ you’d never hear.

Despite the use of all these aids
Old fishermen all agree,
That the methods used in our young days,
Were the best there then could be.

But as I awake from my happy dream
Those lights they appeal to me
As the skiffs lie clustered in a ball
Like an ‘island’ in the sea.

K.PURDY