The Fisherman’s Daughter

I loved the rolling chalk downs

With the comfort of lush grass,

Sheep bleating and other sounds

Birdsong aplenty from larks rising

Sky high in faraway grounds.

I rarely ventured so far as the sea.

It was a foreign land of flinty folk,

Drenched with spume from the sea 

Where even their brittle tongue

Was not as ours and hard on me.

From my drab life I was sent there

And bore their rough speech and looks

For which I did not care

Fashioned by the inclement weather

The seas stinging salt spray hard to bear

But there was something for me

The rough cry of nesting gulls

The pulsating beat of the sea

Barnacles resisting the sea’s pulls

Pebbles burnished by tides and…thee

The wind howled, and the salt spray

Stung the eyes so that vision was a blur.

All this, yet I wanted to stay

For the fisherman’s daughter. For her

Charms with my heart did play

She stood full square with a grin on her face

Beckoning tendrils of hair in disarray

One hand on hip and creel held in place

With fresh caught fish to sell on the quay

She looked at me and I took back a pace

No fish ever was so eager to be caught

A full bosomed wench with feet bare and brown

“What’s the catch?” I asked as I ought

“Me” she replied “Father will throw in a gown

When you take me; which he has bought.”

There were enough strong sons for him.

Daughters were the catch they could not sell

Considered unlucky at sea and weak of limb

So for us a seaside church tolled out its bell

And celebrations lasted until the light was dim

“Take her,” her father said “And treat her right.”

“I’ll be kind” I said. So we settled there

In our tiny house we fitted in snug tight

And quickly my wife children did bear

Truly this was love at first sight.

Yes, I loved the place of my birth

And the birds in the sky winging,

But there is nothing on this earth

To match the sound of my wife singing

And children playing for all they are worth.