The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.2008, Blaðsíða 9

Vol. 62 #1
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
7
Season to Season
by Eric S. Goodman
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 we fishermen pull all the heavy weight
Picking fish after fish at the bow.
The winds have come up, there’s still halfway to go
The sun’s getting low in the sky.
The boats half full with three days of fish
And the men, they have sleep in their eyes.
The current is strong, 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
It’s dark now, but just six o’clock.