through this door ... Inspiration

The Rugged Newfoundlander

The Rugged Newfoundlander

He sits silently on the wharf

As the sun rises over the sea

His hands tucked inside his oilskins

Seeking shelter from the breeze

That blows cold in the early morning

The years of toil show on his face

Burned in by wind and sun

And long hard days upon the sea

From dawn 'till day is done

And beyond into the night

But you never hear him complain

Of the hardships he must endure

For he is a breed, set apart

A special breed, that's for sure

The rugged Newfoundlander

Now that the fish have disappeared

The plants have all closed down

He stands silently on the wharf

Looking at the boats, now run aground

The past a memory

Perhaps in time, they may return

The plants, the boats and fish

But who will brave the icy waters

Who has this dream ... and wish

Other than the rugged Newfoundlander

© November 20, 1982 / March 24, 2017

(edited, with additional verses)