Captain John

of the Thunderhead

He kept that Perkins perkin’ on Matagorda Bay,

for the shrimp were lurkin’ out beyond the Quay.

Castin’ off from the dock before the tide goes out,

headin’ steady as a rock, he’ll fill the net no doubt.

He’ll find the perfect spot, outriggers he will drop,

ties the bag with a knot, lowerin’ doors in the chop.

Slowly feedin’ out the net, no tangled screw to clear,

gonna’ make a tiny bet, the trawlin’s good right here.

Net scrapes on the bottom, the doors pull it wide,

gives a kind of freedom, along with the ride.

The Perkins chugs along, radio plays a song,

nuthin’ can go wrong, this pull won’t be long.

Net is getting’ full, the stern is sittin’ low,

Set the winch to pull, maybe make some dough.

Lift the net up high, the bag it is chock full,

Hope nuthin’ goes awry, just the knot to pull.

Dumps out on the deck, they wriggle and they squirm,

He hollers. “What the heck?” as he does confirm.

Cannon balls and crabs are mixed up with the shrimp,

each the deckhand grabs, proves she ain’t a wimp.

Throwin’ out the chum, gulls and dolphins play,

no reason to be glum, we’re gonna’ get some pay.

Put the haul on ice, the Bait Camp has the price,

Six Bits will suffice, a cold beer would be nice.

He kept that Perkins perkin’ on Matagorda Bay,

Little trawler jinkin’ on its merry way.

lDT Oct 6, ‘21

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