Row Houses
Newfoundlanders can row, you should see some of'em go,
when they puts a punt on a pond.
But I don't like this mess, all this Race foolishness,
I'd never seen so much goings on.
If you wants to see someone rowing,
you needs to be going,
to a harbour where people don't swarm.
Wanna see something fly, that's not in the sky?
that's young Vera, from Raisin Arm.
When Vera Fry, she lets loose, not even an eight legged moose,
that's running straight down a hill.
Could come close to catch her,
cause no one can match her,
with her speed, her strength and her skill.
She sits in her punt,
and faces the front.
Not the other way round, Vera? No sir.
From the time she starts going,
till the time she stops rowing,
her hands are only a blur.
"She's the quickest ever on water", if you go ask her father,
he smiles as he looks over his glasses.
"No one rows faster, there's her mudder, go ask'er.”
“Sure that crowd in St. John's? They're molasses."
Her dad works 100 miles offshore, on the Hibernia platform,
it's hard work, but they're a good bunch.
His wife would say to their daughter,
"Vera take this to yer father"
and she'd row out and bring him his lunch.
If the weather's was hot,
and he wants clean sheets for his cot,
or his tea needed a little more sugar.
Dad just gave a shout,
then Vera rows out.
A few minutes is all that it took her.
She's got a good rowing job, based out of St. John's.
her interview, was no problem to win it.
Works from her Raisin Arm house,
rows every day in and out,
patrolling the two hundred mile limit.
Her grandparents had given consent,
to a new resettlement,
but no ships around for to tow.
Bring their house in from the island,
to the Raisin Arm highlands
So Vera said she'd give it a go.
An old two storey salt box, they hauled down from the rocks,
and managed to get her afloat.
They let go her lines,
then Vera, best kind,
lashed up her little old boat.
She looked way up to the roof, like she needed proof,
that this wasn't a race in a pond.
One slip of her oar,
and she knew for sure
her grandmother's old house would be gone.
The sea wasn't right calm, cause summer's long gone,
but the forecast, just an seven knot wind,
So she started to row,
with that old house in tow,
but soon weather, began to move in.
The wind it picked up, it began to get rough,
the old house it started to sway.
So she learned into her oars, and silently swore
that the devil, better get out of her way.
With all of her might,
the grip was so tight,
with fear that she wouldn't succeed.
but the waves they got higher,
well, that just stoked her fire,
as Vera picked up more speed.
She leaned into her oars
rowed like never before,
any moment that house could be gone.
But with that last push she gave
she rode just the tops of the waves,
like a rock skipping over a pond.
If you were on land,
with a camera in hand
you've seen it happen right there.
cause the pace she was going,
and the rate she was rowing,
that house lifted and floated on air.
See she knew mechanics,
and studied aerodynamics,
the details and science of flight.
and I'll not telling a lie,
that house started to fly.
and Vera towed it along,
like a kite.
In Raisin Arm's harbour,
she could make out her grandfather,
waving and dancing around.
Pointing to the foundation,
so she made a quick calculation
and decided to run her boat aground.
She sighted a spot on the shore,
to finish her chore
and she knew without hesitation,
When to stopped rowing,
so that house would keep going,
and pitch squarely on that foundation.
And as that house flew over top,
Vera Fry got a shock,
with the thoughts of this building she's saving.
As the house was just pitching,
she saw into the kitchen,
Her grandmother there smiling and waving.
That house lightly touched down,
right square on the ground,
of the foundation her grandfather made.
The door opened wide,
and her Nan filled with pride.
"Young Vera, you deserves a parade."
All hands they cheered,
when Vera appeared,
satisfied from the burden she bore.
So when was all said and done,
Vera Fry, she's the one,
that rowed Nan and her house
safe ashore.
But imagine the glory,
and the newspaper stories,
if Vera had continued her pace.
Cause if she'd kept up her rowing,
the headlines be showing,
Vera Fry, rowed the first house into space.
Copyright © Ken Parsons | Year Posted 2020
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