At Sea -
Wind ripped through the rigging blowing cold
Sheets with extended billows were stiff,
Unyielding, almost beyond their fold
Men struggled to reef them and knew if
Gale and mounting surge continued bad
There wouldn’t be quarter and peace as gift
For end of this wind they’d be most glad
Sleet, ice in halyards encrusted blocks
To survive, their skill was all they had
Again to see Halifax’s far docks
Tea for Scotia was stored in ship’s hold
Hands scambled down to deck from the tops
Wind ripped through the rigging blowing cold
Unyielding, almost beyond their fold
Copyright © Alfred Berggren | Year Posted 2017
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