Lögberg-Heimskringla - 26.07.1991, Blaðsíða 19

The Poet’s Corner
Lögberg-Heimskringla • Föstudagur 26.' júlí 1991’ • 19
Season to Season
Rise up ye men, young and old
For the weather is calm now you see
It’s a perfect day to catch the fish
It’s a peaceful place to be.
The weather is calm, the winds are low
And the nets are three days old
For the last three days it blew like hell
With the north winds icy cold.
The nets come over the bow of the boats
And the seagulls are squawking out
loud
As the fisherman pulls all the heavy
weight
Picking fish after fish at the bow.
The winds have come up, and there’s
halfway to go
The sun’s getting low in the sky
The boat’s half full with three days of
fish
And the men they have sleep in their
eyes.
The current is strong and the nets very
tight
And the language is not very nice
A wave splashes over the front of the
boat
And forms into a sheet of glazed ice.
There’s ice on the face of the bearded
men
The ones without are blue
The feeling has left all their fingertips
As they hurry to pick and get through.
When the nets have been lifted and the
men back on shore
And the last man is leaving the dock
He looks down at his wrist with a smile
on his face
As his watch reads six o’clock.
Many hours go by as they work on their
catch
The men are too tired to talk
Sorting the fish according to size
Preparing and packing each box.
It’s moming again and they’re back on
the lake
And most of them raring to go
They’re all pulling their nets to be off
the lake
‘Cause the season has come to a close.
Got to stop for a while, got to think
about things
Got to sip on our beer, ‘fore it warms
We’ll just set here all day, drinking beer
after beer
Reminising about really bad storms.
Finished spreading their nets, and a
month has gone by
And the ice has formed over the lake
They go out on the ice, making their
claims
Jigging nets under, stake after stake.
It is a dangerous job, to be out on the ice
A place where you have to be quick
Makes a terrible sound, as it cracks all
around
With the ice only four inches thick.
Then the strong winds come up, and the
ice starts to move
And piles up under nature’s great force
For tíie Mountains it makes, and the
fishermen it breaks
Losing their nets in the course.
As the weather gets cold and the ice is
more safe
And the fishermen make daily lifts
You will notice a smile on their brown,
windbumt face
As they bombardier over the drifts.
Day after day, and month after month
Like fishing on snow covered plains
The nets slide up through auger-drilled
holes
And get pulled back under again.
The day’s getting long and the nights not
so cold
The sun changes snow into rain.
Now the slush from the snow, makes it
real hard to go
As the season is ending again.
Now the weather is warm and more
work to be done
They’re painting the boats to go north
It won’t be very long, ‘til the next sea-
son’s here
They’ll be leaving after May 24th.
There is talk in the town, that there is
pickerel around
And the saugers are plentiful too
Then the whitefish boats will be going
up north
And the pickerel will be going there
too.
For it’s pickerel we want on the south of
the lake
But sometimes they’re hard to be found
There’s sunfish and suckers, tulibee and
carp
It’s a good thing there’s saugers around.
The harbour seems empty, without the
big boats
They’re a sight when they all come back
in
Like the Odinn, the Viking, the Ice-
lander too,
Many others and the big Sigga Lynn.
It’s been a good season for the boats up
north
They brought in a pretty good haul
But those in the south, didn’t do quite
as well
They’ll have to fish that much more in
the fall.
We all have our good days and then
there’s the bad
It seems like it’s always that way.
It’s what we make of each day that
counts
For things can’t go right every day.
So rise up ye men, young and old
Be proud with your heads held up high
We don’t work quite as hard as our
ancestors did
But we give it a pretty good try.
Eríc S. Goodman, July, 1984
Hátiöarkveöjur frá Winriipeg
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