Birds Of A Feather
Here they go beneath the hammer:
Snub-nosed trawlers, stoutly made,
Lacking any outward glamour,
Reeking of their fishy trade.
Fishermen, come look 'em over
From the crow's-nest to the keel;
Meet the Heron, Osprey, Plover,
Curlew, Penquin, Coot and Teal!
Yachting folks in speckless flannels,
These were not designed for you,
These are craft for tortuous channels
Where the tides go foaming through;
These are craft for trawling over,
Grounds whose currents lurch and reel;
These are Heron, Osprey, Plover,
Curlew, Penquin, Coot and Teal!
Little ships that go a-fishing
Like the birds that gave them name,
Plunging, lunging, dipping, swishing
In the search for finny game;
Here you are, you salt-caked rover,
It's to you that they appeal,
Trawlers Heron, Osprey, Plover,
Curlew, Penquin, Coot and Teal!
They're not pretty or romantic
But they're sturdy, tough, and strong,
An they'll buck the North Atlantic
Where the cod and haddock throng.
Ever felt the spray dash over?
Ever coaxed a ship or drove her
Grimly straining at the wheel?
Then you'll stop and look 'em over,
Then you'll want to make a deal
For the Heron, Osprey, Plover,
Curlew, Penquin, Coot and Teal!
NOTE: Special thanks to Chet Williamson who provided this poem free of charge.
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