by cricketjeff on July 9, 2009. © Jeff Green, All rights reserved
That swung beneath the stars, beside the quay
And moonlight danced on ripples to the organ’s mournful notes
The church was singing love songs to the sea.
The mountains slept behind me like a dragon on its hoard
Ahead of me a yachtsman entertained a “friend” on board.
There were fishing boats aplenty, hung with nets, and dirty brown,
And a dinghy scarcely big enough for two.
There’s a lady with her skirt up and her husband has a frown;
I’m sitting writing cards to send to you.
There’s a pint of cider waiting in the pub across the street
But the moonlight on the harbour’s sure to sweep me off my feet.
Now my friend is slowly rowing from his boat towards his drink
And he’s shattered all the moonlight into gems.
He is not an expert oarsman and seems quite inclined to sink
Though he’s managed not to do that since the Thames.
In the morning we’ll go walking to the top of Scafell Pike
But tonight I’m by the harbour and I’m glad I’m off my bike!
On reaching our destination, I cycled he sailed to “The Lakes” from London. I had a saddle-sore bum and he was totally soaked