Are the yield from a three-mile haul;
—When the dory-bow ducks with the weight
that it lugs
Of the riffraff and sculch of the sea,
And sculpins come gogglin’ with wide-open
mugs,
And grinnin’ jocosely at me.
It’s h’ist and lug, and pull and tug—
Bow-pulley chuckerin’—chugity-chug!
And all that ye’re gittin’ won’t pay for the