THE DORYMAN’S SONG
Dory here an’ Dora there,
They keep a man a-guessin’;
An’ here’s a prayer for a full-bin fare,
—Then home for the parson’s blessin’!
Ruddy an’ round as the skipper’s phiz, out of
the sea he rolls,
—The fisherman’s sun, an’ the day’s begun for
the men on the Grand Bank shoals.
With pipe alight an’ snack stowed tight under
a bulgin’ vest,
I’ll over with dory an’ in with the trawls for
the wind is fair sou’ west.
—The wind is fair sou’ west,
The fish-slick stripes the crest
Of every curlin’, swingin’ an’ swirlin’, billowin’
ocean-guest,
That sweeps to the wind’ard rail
An’ under the bulgin’ sail
Seems wavin’ its welcome with clots of foam
that are tossed by the roguish gale.
Dory here an’ Dora there,
‘Way over yon at Glo’stcr;
Those clots of foam seem letters from
home
To pledge I haven’t lost her.
Friskily kickin’, the dories dance, churnin’ the
foamin’ lee,
With a duck an’ a dive an’ a skip an’ skive—
the bronchos of the sea.
Sheerin’ an’ veerin’ with painter a-flirt, like a
frolicsome filly’s tail,
—Now a sweep on the heavin’ deep, close to
the saggin’ rail,
—Close to the saggin’ rail,
Jump! If you cringe or fail,
You’re doin’ a turn in the wake astern in the
role of a grampus whale.
As she poises herself to spring,
—Nimble an’ mischievous thing,
There’s only the flash of a second of time to
capture her on the wing.
Dory here an’ Dora there!
Sure, they drive me frantic.
For one she swims on the ocean of whims,
An’ one on the broad Atlantic.
Sowin’ the bait from the trawl-heaped tubs, I
pull at my old T. D.
An’ I dream of a pearl of a Glo’ster girl, who’s
waitin’ at home for me;
Statin’ she’s waitin’ is not to say she’s prom-
ised as yet her hand,
For she’s wild as my dory—she keeps me in
worry;—they’re hard to understand.
—They’re hard to understand,
But I’ve got the question planned,
Please God, I’ll know if it’s weal or woe as
soon as I get to land.
For a man who can catch the swing,
Of a dory—mischievous thing—
Has certainly grit to capture a chit of a maid
about to spring.
Dory here an’ Dora there!
They keep a man a-guessin’,
An’ here’s a prayer for a full-bin fare,
Then home for the parson’s blessin’.
