Crabbing
Buildings of waves come at all of us
We jog up waves and pray for a window
Snow and rain diminish our vision plus
That's how we know were fishing Opilio
As Matt throws the hook towards the first pot
We wait and hope many crab lay there
Many hours later we just want out cot
The skipper would like us out of his hair
The weather only gets worse later on
Many hours are spent breaking blocks of ice
All of our bodies are worked to the bone
Tons of good men pay the ultimate price
As we pull into the harbor we hope
That this season wasn't just a big joke