Drifting - Joan Raleigh

Old Bill had a fright one day
while fishing out on his boat.
He fell asleep as usual
wrapped up in his duffle coat.

The sun was shining and the sea
lapped dreamily on the planking;
and although Bill had two rods out,
it seemed the fish weren’t biting.

Now up the Banks just off the Point,
the tidal flow’s deceptive,
especially when a fog comes down
and your mind is less than active!

The boat had all the usual gear,
radar and auto-steering.
All other boats had motored home,
but Billy was blissfully sleeping.

The fog was dense as Billy’s brain
and the current surruptitious.
He didn’t feel the movement, so
the signs were non-auspicious.

He past Fermain away to port
and drifted past the harbour mouth.
The Salerie slid swiftly to his stern,
soon Paradis was to his south.

Then a siren suddenly rent his dreams …
He awoke at the Platte Fougere.
Said Bill “I’ve not a clue where I’m to,
I’m lost, neither here nor there.

But if I set a course on auto,
and head sou-west somewhere,
with luck I’ll hit old L’ancresse beach,
and caw dammee … I’m staying there!”

Joan Raleigh