I let my thoughts rest like arrows in a quiver. Let me hit a bulls eye in your minds eye. Let my vision touch within your head.

When the curve of a hull catches my minds eye like a well rounded womens bottom, I reply: “Lobsterboat!” When it’s time to haul traps, and perhaps my sou’wester lacks snaps, to shelter from a whitherin breeze. I just hitch up my pants, while across the deck I dance to the tune of waves rockin and swayin. My lips will be sayin: Lobsterboat!” When the rain comes drizzlin, and my luck has been fizzlein, I just smile cause I know this by rote. It’s a good thing wood floats, and a lobsterboat is no place for a spleener. Come clear weather I’ll be home for dinner. Lobsterboat! Way down and up she rises. The deck is heaving heavy and so’s my insides. Spin the wheel cluth the rail headin home. Lobsterboat moan. My lobsterin day is coming to a close and I’m singing down low. I’ve got me a few bottom crawlers in tow, while the whole mess is rockin to and fro. I’ve got a bad case of the lobsterboat blues, and so. As I cry out and moan, I feel I could write a tome, of verses to the lobsterboat blues. As I quake and I gasp, I’ve seen so much water in the past, I no longer crave my home soil. Except for long enough to put some water to heat in a pan. Lobster Boil! Cook them till tender, so they will render, the fruit of the crux for which I toil. Lobster Boil! My mouth tends to water, when over the deck I saunter. I check the warps and empty traps. Hoping my hopes don’t collapse. Wondering if perhaps, I’ll be back in port before taps. My mind tends to wander, as I look with a weather eye of yonder, and I think my self truely a sap. Oh if on my feet I could nap, I’d lobster 24 seven. Lobster Boat Heaven! But I whistle a tune, trying to sound like a loon, then I mumble down low: “Lobsterboat!”