The Legend of Ol' Blue

The old sailor sat on the dock
with the brim of his hat pulled way down;
and from out of his bushy grey beard
he stared with a studied frown. 

He lifted a rustic old pipe,
rubbed a gnarled hand on his chin
then nodded his weathered head
as he fingered a battered tobacco tin.

T'was a cold grey day in October,    
said he with a distant stare.
The fog hung low o’er the harbour,
should ‘a known there was gloom in the air. 

The boat was full, loaded with traps
when we headed out into the bay,
couldn’t see more’n our noses in front
but the catch was the drive of the day.

We laid out our trawl in a sea mist
as blinding as barnyard muck
hoping to catch eights or quarters,  
or deuces, if we had any luck,  

But none of us ever expected,
the terror that waited below
as the water around us grew choppy
and the east wind began to blow.

That day when the buoys began rocking
we thought all our luck had run out
when the biggest and baddest ol’ lobster
reared up his long ugly snout.

And that’s when I got my first look
at the scariest thing in the sea
—a lobster as big as the boat
there staring back up at me!

A legend of mythical lore;
a name sailors young and old knew.
I swear I was first e’er to see him
—the legend they all called Ol’ Blue.

All the children sat in a huddle
as the old man recounted his tale
of the day that he nearly met fate
with a lobster as big as a whale

And I don’t think that anyone else saw
that his eyes held a glint of a smile
as he gave me a secretive wink
while stretching his story for miles.


february 2005
©Janet Reid






Awarded by Friendly Musings