The Boat in the Farmyard

 

The old black boat
Will never float
Except upon a sea of nettles.
Half on her side
She lay and died
Among the pots and rusty kettles.

She once was swift
When tides did lift
Her prow when she went to the fishing
But now her bones
Rest on the stones
And only I am wishing, wishing!

She has a crew,
Not like she knew
When she was manned and sailed the ocean,
But hens and chicks
Their bearings fix
Left undisturbed by lack of motion.

Her name is gone,
She is unknown,
And no one cares to find her story;
No one but I,
Who sit and sigh,
And dream of voyages and glory