The Crusty Crab
Fisherman’s friend
His calloused rough old hands,
His brow wet with salt,
His yellow rain bonnet smells like the surf,
His eyes like huge swells in stormy seas.
Overboard he went on a cold February night,
Only his lantern and wet suit life vest he donned,
He floated in the darkness, helpless, in deep peril,
His emergency beacon worked well… and they saw it.
He rejoiced in the rescue and hugged the mates,
He danced a little jig and even kissed the captain’s face!
He slept well that night with warm chamomile tea,
He made up his mind to never ever again go to sea.
In the morning he asked, “Where’s the next port of call?
“Manila in the Philippines, is on the paperwork I have.”
“That’s correct matey.”, the Captain replied. The crew will have some time.
“Sir, I intend to stay there and terminate my contract. Understand?”
“But what will you do for money?
It will takes years for you to get back,
“Sir, the sea just scared the core out of me,
I’ll open my very own fresh crab shack.”
And to this day if you sail or fly that way,
Be sure to stop and give a jolly, “Hey!”,
To the Crusty Crab, a fisherman’s friend to the end,
Standing firmly on dry land, respecting the ocean.
