The Lobsterman

Through the misty morning fog,
Across Penobscot Bay,
removed from industrious smog,
Is where I’d like to stay.

My father was a bay man,
Like my grandfather before.
I’d like to grow a boy to man,
so we may work some more.

To lobster is a thankless job.
It’s one of the toughest you can get.
but as long as buoys bob,
I can show the world true grit.

The waves are often rough,
The danger’s always there,
But when you have the stuff,
you can sail her anywhere.

So if I leave the harbor,
and get lost out in a storm,
Then tell my boy on shore,
Do that for which he was born.


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