The Maine Lobsterman

The Maine Lobsterman
By
Belva Rae Staples



His skin is brown and ruddy and looks just like old shoe leather.
It got that way from hours spent in harsh sun and windy weather.
His face has many lines and creases like a well worn nautical chart,
But underneath his rough exterior beats a warm and tender heart.

He’s a big man with brawny arms both muscular and strong,
Because he hauls traps from dawn throughout the whole day long.
He has salt water in his veins and salt spray flying in his face.
He thinks fair weather fishermen are a living, breathing disgrace.

He never whines or complains and he learned early that life’s not fair.
He keeps working and if you don’t like how he lives, he doesn’t care.
He pays all of his bills and he pays each one of them right on time.
With him it’s about honor and furthermore, he never borrows a dime.

Ask him a question and he’ll answer looking you directly in the eye.
From his steely stare, you’ll know without a doubt he’s told no lie.
If he says he’ll do something, consider it done, that’s just the way he is.
That’s why he goes out of his way not to make any hasty promises.

You’re asking me about trap wars, well, yeah, he’s lived through a few.
But he never took a knife to another man’s line, unless he really had to.
You see, not everyone out on the water has this same frame of mind.
There’s a lot of crooks out there and they’re neither fair nor kind.


He’s never been a hard drinking man, but he’ll take a nip now and then,
For medicinal purposes or when talking over old times with a friend.
This guy’s not just any old salt, I’ll tell ya, no, he’s the salt of the earth.
It would take a lot of so-called refined folks to ever equal his worth.

Now, he may not be a well educated man with some highfalutin’ PHD,
But he has a mind full of wisdom and a wit that’s quick from life on the sea.
He knows all about things like tides and how close to come to each ledge.
And whether the lobsters he’s trapping will be off over or up on the edge.




He knows whether the tides are flood, or rip or when they are ebb.
No snarl’s been made he couldn’t clear even if it’s like a spider’s web.
He’s an expert at tying the half-hitch, the bowline and even the anchor knot.
He remembers all the old ways that most folks have long since forgot.

If you haven’t figured it out by now, he’s one stubborn, independent cuss.
Just do things the way he advises, though, and he hardly cause a fuss.
He knows his way’s the right one, he’s proved it time and time again.
You can tell him of your better plan, but he’ll just shake his head and grin.

He’ll size you up, when he meets you with a quick all encompassing glance.
But if he doesn’t like what he sees, he won’t even give you another chance.
If you do happen to pass his inspection, he’ll listen to what you have to say.
And then he’ll tell you a yarn or two before he sends you off on your way.

He might even invite you to stop by, if you ever come this way again.
Before all is said and done, he might even consider you his friend.
Just don’t expect him to come calling at your house, if it’s far from the sea.
As much as he seems to like you, that’s one place he’s never content to be.

You want to know if he’s religious, well, I know he’s a reader of The Book,
But chooses not to congregate with those who have that self-righteous look.
He claims he’s seen the Spirit of God hovering over the face of the deep.
That’s why he knows his soul’s a treasure he can trust his God to keep.

That high and mighty church crowd branded him an old heathen years ago.
It only goes to show you how little some good folks seem to know.
But he doesn’t hold one thing against them, he just goes on about each day.
He worships his Maker as he sees fit and doesn’t give a damn what they say.


His family has lived here for generations and his family tree has deep roots.
He thinks transplants who try to pass for natives are just crazier than coots
He’s a bonafide Maine lobsterman from his hip boots to his tattered old hat.
He’s the essence of Downeast Yankee manhood, so what do ya think of that?





Now, friend, don’t look at me with such disbelief written all over your face.
I’ve told the truth about this man set apart from the rest o’ the human race.
You ask, if he is for real, so here’s my answer with a big smile and a wink.
He’s a lot like the dragon or the dinosaur, he’s either a myth or else extinct.

Copyright@2011