The harr’s a rollin’ in
From the ocean and far beyond
where the old man sits and hooks his bait
and sits patiently from mornin' tae late
He sees a ship harboured in the morning mist
the nautical readings explained on the list
the old clock stuck at a quarter past one
dazzles brightly in the morning sun
as the harr clears he takes off his hat
and carefully adjusts his tartan mat
He's sat there for years just a dreamin' 'bout the past
and taking in the beauty with every cast
He still sees a few of those old special friends
but the pain from those gone now will never end
The memories the jokes and the work on the boat
and his ma makin' him wear that bloody coat
still likes his fishing
but nothing will compare
Tae auld pals like his they were awfy rare.
GORDON SAUNDERS
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/special-place-5/
