The Sea Squall

A sea squall blowing like a banshee from the North

The simple fishing boats are still far off the shore

Atlantic waves cresting eight feet o’er the bows

Combers like sea monsters conjured from old folklore

At home ashore the wives gather their wee ones closer

Red beacon light in the window shining seaward

Clear supper dishes, tuckin each child lovingly

more wood on the fire, another sip of cold tea

Nighttime brings darkness, all hands are on deck

Worn rigging strains and old timber moans

Lighting streaks, thunder cracks God’s commands

the boat of his father’s father shivers now and groans

Past midnight Momma kneels, statue of the Virgin

The sign of the cross,prays aloud the Fisherman's Creed

Rises and looks out window for the hundredth time

Her heart and soul by hour grow more afraid and weary

At sea fog clears in a sudden gust of misted wind

On starboard quarter the Bell Oran Buoy does appear

The skipper yells "Crew look lively now my mates

I see docks ahead and homeward bound is near"

Ashore hold each other tired, safe and sound in bed

Silently they thank God for the Fisherman’s Creed

That brought the Captain and crew home safe again

Away from the clawing, clutches of King Neptune’s greed…