Along the shore the solans strike,
and rise, and strike again in spray,
and I myself, and all my like,
can curse our fate and look away.
On sheltered rocks the black scarts bask
full fed, and rise to meet again;
we bend our shoulders to the task
they threw to us like beggar men.
The skiff I had for thirty years
has gone to pay her debts and mine.
My son a stranger’s cutter steers.
I delve the roadway by Loch Fyne.
From Kenmore south to Saddle Bay
the blind shoals wander in the sea.
I ply my spade and watch them play –
God, what is it but mockery?
"I chose this poem, because it tells the real story. Being at sea is everything for a fisherman; every day at one with his boat, the sea and the wind. It is his whole life and is what has made him who he is. This poem tells the story of the loss of everything for a fisherman. I know from family history and local history what can happen to fisherman and their families when the fishing was very poor!"
Casper (Malcom MacFarlane)