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.