The boat

[Hot Soup]

One afternoon I was driving down the creek near my house when I spotted a half submerged boat in the middle of what was once a pier. The broken remains of the once proud boat caused me to imagine was it once was. A sixteen foot, gleaming red, vision of beauty that was the envy of those who were not fortunate enough to own it.

The boat was not made for the ocean like the bigger boats but it was a proud boat. The poor useless wreck had carried many dreams. The dream of the man who saw it in his mind before he built it. The owner dreamt of long hours going down a crab line, pulling bushels of crabs from the water, and triumphantly bringing them home to his family. He saw an escape from the world's troubles in that little boat which faithfully carried him through the creek. The owner's children dreamed of using it for fishing, or racing, or taking it out so they could swim in the creek.

There were many dreams and if the boat could feel it would probably express the joy it had in bringing happiness to so many. Satisfied in that it made so many dreams come true.

Then I could see it in my mind, the owner and his family tying the boat to the pier and packing to go home believing that it would be there in one piece when they returned. In thier minds they would return next weekend as they always did and the boat would be fine.

Then Monday night came and the water began to stir and the sky grew black. A storm was on its way, a creul storm that turned dreams into nightmares.

The boat began to rock in the water, ever slowly, the ropes held it in place. Then the wind blew harder and the waves grew higher indifferent to the boat and the pier. The water threat boat almost bringing it crashing down on the pier but it missed. The first time anyway.

The winds grew stronger and if the boat had a voice it would have cried for mercy. It had dreams to fulfill but the storm was uncaring, it had come to shatter the dreams. The water pressed against the side of the boat causing two lines to snap sending the boat into a pole. Wood and fiberglass gave way as a deluge of water rushed in. The sky light up in delight as the it destroyed dreams, shattered hope, and left a wake of devastation. The storm pounded the boat with more pressure slamming it on every side. A side gave way and the silver railing that ran across the bow was torn off by the winds.

The waters pulled at the boat, the ocean called for it wanting to claim it. But the boat's last line held, refusing to give, dreams and hopes would not be stolen by the storm.

The storm passed and the owner would return someday. Dreams would be rebuilt. The storms of life would not win.

[Regel]

Beauty! That's a Canadian expression for something very well done.

 

 

One of my favourite folk artists wrote many a song on this theme. My favourite is The Jeannie C. from Stan Rogers Turnaround album.

 

For your enjoyment (or probably for mine) I will include the lyrics

 

The Jeannie C.

 

 

 

Come all ye lads, draw near to me, that I be not forsaken

This day was lost the Jeannie C. and my living has been taken

I'll go to sea no more

 

We set out his day in the bright sunrise, the same as any other

My son and I and old John Price in the boat named for my mother

I'll go to sea no more

 

Now it's well you know what the fishing has been, it's been scarce and hard and cruel

But this day, by God, we sure caught cod, and we sang and we laughed like fools

I'll go to sea no more

 

I'll never know what it was we struck, but strike we did like thunder

John Price give a cry and pitched overside. Now it's forever he's gone under

I'll go to sea no more

 

Now a leak we've sprung, let there be no delay if the Jeannie C. we're saving

John Price is drown'd and slip'd away. So I'll patch the hole while you're bailing

I'll go to sea no more

 

But no leak I found from bow to hold. No rock it was that got her

But what I found made me heart stop cold, for every seam poured water

I'll go to sea no more

 

My God, I cried as she went down. That boat was like no other

My father built her when I was nine, and named her for my mother

I'll go to sea no more

 

And sure I could have another made in the boat shop down in Dover

But I would not love the keel they laid like the one the waves roll over

I'll go to sea no more

 

So come all ye lads, draw near to me, that I be not forsaken

This day was lost the Jeannie C. and my whole life has been taken

I'll go to sea no more:

 

 

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Written and recorded by Stan Rogers. Copyright Fogarty's Cove Music

(The lyrics above are not exactly the ones that are on the liner notes on the album, but they are the lyrics as recorded on Turnaround.) The liner notes say that it was written in January 1978 and dedicated to the fisherman of Little Dover N.S.

 

 

© Fogarty's Cove Music

[Hot Soup]

Thank you. I wrote this probably about ten years and discovered a few months ago. I enjoyed working on it again today.