Sidney Beck Poet Ballad

Resting At Night

RESTING AT NIGHT


At evening when the sun dried the boards
And the wind dropped to a lulling sway
We sat like lords
Of all we survey

Listening to the fiddle of the cook
And all the while giving a furtive look
Toward the captain's door
And his terrible roar

Which in the daylight
Commanded grog or flog
But ordered scriptures by night
Leaving us all agog


8 October  2019

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Note   -  this is another  exerpt  from my longer poem, “Discovery of America”,
the real story of men against the sea in 1492.

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