The fisherman’s swapping a yarn for a yarn

Under the hand of the village barber;

And here 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 Georges 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 for the Happy Isles together.