FISHERMEN'S OWN BOOK. 



169 



The Merry, Merry Mackerel Catchers. 



BY JACOB S. LORD. 



Then it's laugh, "Ha! ha!" and shout, "Hur- 

 rah!" 



We are hound for the coast of Maine ; 

 Our hold is well stored with salt and food, 



In the boat we've a fine new seine. 



The sun goes down as we round Eastern 

 Point- 

 Tor Monhegan our course is laid ; 



The watch is set — the pipes are lit, 

 And a game of cards is played ; 



A lively lad has a song to sing ; 



Uncle Ben has a yarn to spin ; 

 So pleasantly passes the time away 



Till eight bells, when all turn in, 



Except the lonely watch on deck, 

 "Whose measured tramp is heard 



As smoothly o'er the water skims 

 Our vessel like a wild sea-bird. 



It is break of day — the sun peeps up, 



The morning's clear and cool, 

 Aloft the lookout makes his way, 



To sight the early school. 



He espies the fleet — they are dead ahead— 



And right lustily does he shout 

 To the skipper, who nervously walks the 

 deck, 



"Yes, yes, the boats are out." 



Now all is life on the schooner's deck, 

 As she ploughs thro' the sparkling brine ; 



Her crew in oiled clothes anxiously wait 

 For a chance to wet the twine. 



"A school! a school!" from the foremast- 

 head 



Is the lookout's exciting call ; 

 " On the weather bow ! it's showing red, 



Can't say if it's large or small." 



" Come down from aloft ! haul up the boat ! 



Out with the dory, tumble up here, cook! 

 "Work lively, lads — yes, cast her off, 



Pull out, and we'll have a look. 



Hold ! way enough ; ah, there they rise — ■ 

 Good fish ! I should say they were fine ; 



Now gently start her ahead, my boys, 

 Quick, seine-master, give them twine ! 



Pull hard, my men ! now bend your backs ! 



Lively! over with the corks, my friend; 

 That's way enough — take on your oars, 



Pass along the dory's end ; 



Jump to the purse-line, one and all, 

 Give a long, strong and a steady pull ; 



The rings are up-=yes, take them on; 

 By Jove ! I believe she's full." 



Anc} so it proved— of number twos, 



Bight cheerily did we bail 

 Till the skipper cries, "We've got enough, 



She's full from rail to rail." 



All night we worked at split and gib, 

 Next day they were salted down, 



As the sun sank low in the ruddy west, 

 We made sail for Gloucester town. 



