Get me through the day, O Lord
The seas ‘ave gone awry,
T’ree men ‘ave vanished overboard
And waves stand two masts high.
The sky now scowls ‘n angry black
And lightening scars ‘is face,
The wind does vary ‘er attack
But blows a fearsome pace.
Frenetic sea fanged mountain crests
Rise up upon each side,
Then yawning so to ‘eart arrest—
Dark gorges open wide.
One minute seems we go straight up,
The other we face down,
An extra push then we breakup
And we shall surely drown.
My stomach spent its’ ‘eaving job
And brine stings red each eye,
I ‘ug the stay and pray to God
For we seem set to die.
Where does the grace of ‘eaven go
When ocean furies rage,
Of plank and pitch each sailor knows
Is paid the devils’ wage.
There strafed by wind and flogged by wave
I raise me weary ‘ead
And see the tall masts’ royal yard
Against wroth skies of dread.
It was a sign I’d yearned to see,
That cross from out the storm,
I saw tomorrow where I’d be;
I knew that I’d be home.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.
Loubert S Suddaby poems 