The fishermen when evening falls put out
In their small craft to grace the open sea
And leave the safety of the harbour wall.
As one by one they pass comes many a shout
From folk upon the jetty and the quay,
And night draws sofly on her sable shawl.
And one by one (since fishermen ne’er flout
Their superstitious awe of number three
Two boats go second, so no ill befall).
They for their marks put helms and boats about.
And we, at home, snug in our bed asleep,
Give not a thought; unless father or son,
Or husband will have sailed, then are we one
In spirit with the toilers on the deep.
Weekly Times 8.7.60