The Patti Duvel

Gather 'round mates and hear ye this tale
of the fateful voyage of the Patti Duvel.
A sixty foot trawler with a beam of blue spruce,
an old weathered Captain and a rough hardened crew.

The call for the crew went out about one
to gather at the docks by the rise of the sun.
With lightening quick speed the boat was all readied;
the lines were hauled in and the sails were all steadied.

The tuna were deep running out on the ledge
and the Captain set sail with this God solemn pledge,
“We’ll work ‘til we fill the hull of this trawl,
then it’s back to homeport and whiskey for all!”

The boat was offshore closing in on its mark,
as the winds picked up force and the sky turned slate dark.
Waves of ten feet were breaking over the rails,
arriving in sets of three and four swells.

Well, the best laid plans do oft go awry,
as the winds were now howling with seas twelve feet high.
The wooden deck groaned, and mates cried for their mother,
as the Patti Duvel listed then started taking on water.

The Captain and crew hung on to their ship,
but after an hour all loosened their grip.
As one after the other slipped in to their grave;
home to past sailors, some cowards, some brave.

When word reached back to their port the next night
that the Captain and crew had lost in their plight,
the men all drank whiskey and the women drank tea,
and remembered their friends who returned to the sea.