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The Flower Boat

The fisherman’s swapping a yarn for a yarn

Under the hand of the village barber,

And her in the angle of house and barn

His deep-sea dory has found a harbor.

At anchor she rides the sunny sod

As full to the gunnel of flowers growing

As ever she turned her home with cod

From George’s bank when winds were blowing.

 

And I judge from that elysian freight

That all they ask is rougher weather,

And dory and master will sail by fate

To seek the Happy Isles together.