The tides of Fundy they crash down among me as I work this turbulent winter sea.


    And what a sea, holding such ancient mystery, nothing like my home of stone and snow and tree.


    There is bounty there, salty ocean fare, vast choice of treats for klicks around


    I race the sun when day''s begun, and at dark I make once more for solid ground.


    The days are long, the company abominable, such a peculiar lot those who love things nautical


    The usual workplace drama I can''t escape, surround by slackers and damned by my own competence, that''s just my fate.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    Still on probation yet climbing fast, I''m better worked than the old leading lass, and now the offer to be first mate


    has been given to me. Dude, calm down I''m still rather green!


    Now the weather does turn and I am amazed, I can feel the seasons shift every time the winds do change.


    The sun beats down those wet morning haze and for knots around, in wonder I gaze


    at the majesty surrounding me, the waters, the coasts, those distant homey trees.


    Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. Such dated saying still holds more relevance than you might think.


    For the sea is beautiful but she is also unforgiving.


    Those rocky ledges that so magnificently glitter would be all too happy to smash my boat to splinters.


    All those tasty snacks of the sea would be just as delighted to take a nibble out of me.


    These driving waves that power me home would conspire with giants to crush and grind down my bone.


    Even the ropes that are supposed to be friend are one misplaced limb away from delivering my end.


    Work the great tides of Fundy, its alright money, but remember this sonny


    The ocean has claimed millions of men and she''ll just as joyously do it again.