A Tramping trip 1950’s
It doesn’t seem so long ago,
Ship’s winches chugging loudly in the snow,
Tangled cables, boards, and an old hatch batten,
lay around in a random fashion.
Its a winters morn in another dock,
Safe behind the entrance lock.
This then was a tramping ship,
and joining for another trip.
Memories of island life come flooding back
And thoughts of copra brought by sack
The lazy life of sun and sand
And music from a native band
Coconut oil warm and rich,
Piped ashore without a hitch
And soon the copra too is gone.
Sweeping up won’t take too long.
Then the cabins all in white,
And quilts of blue, tucked up tight,
A feeling that the trip to come
might be special, might be fun.
Its an honour to be aboard
Silent thanks up to the Lord
this magic scene’s not there for all
But fate decided when to call.