ramblings and things

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I’m a deckie on a side winder



A rough and brutal life 



Which is sometimes reflected in 



The way I treat my family and wife.



 



And the fast blacks queue for me



Eager to take my trade



And the pubs welcome me for 



Their share of what I’ve made.



 



And they say we are heroes, 



Us of the deep sea fishing fleet



In our powder blue suits with



Brothel creepers on our feet.



 



Three day millionaires they call us



But do they ever stop to think



Why I fill my life ashore



With company and drink.



 



Sometimes when the catch is low



Or when the market price is bad



I owe the owners money when they



Claim back allowances the family had;



 



Then we exist on the talleyman, 



Or, what I really hate,



Beg at Myton Street Social 



For a hand out from the state.



 



Three days between trips



Three days to try and live



Then it’s back on board where 



They take all I have to give.



 



Seventeen fisher lives gone



For every miner’s life lost



All for  cheap fish and taties;



Do they add that to the cost.



 



I’m a deckie on a sidewinder, which



Can be a seaborne life of hell



But when the catch is good boys



Me and my family live so well.



 



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