Today’spoem

THE FISHERMEN

This is what you call a morning, see how the sun lights up the day, Climb aboard, the breeze is gentle, lift that anchor, sail away. Marianne is doing some baking, up to her eyes again in flour, Cooking beef with big roast taters, goosegog-pie, all nice and sour. Get a little bit of speed up, Dover cliffs look just like chalk, Reminds me of my happy schooldays, snobs and dobbie ’n’ silly talk. Always liked a bit of drama, search the skies, is that a plane? If it is we’ll keep on going, even though it seems insane. Look astern, we’re being followed: ‘Right then, lads, let’s have a race,’ Twenty, thirty, blooming ’undreds, floating lemmings fill the place. If I’d brought me fishing tackle, fish’d swim into the net But there’s bigger fish to hook, mate, and we’ll catch them, never fret. There’s the coastline, see it looming — please God, let us reach the shore, Boat ploughs onwards, seems impatient, distant guns let out a roar. Weaving past two big Destroyers: ‘See you soon, lads, that’s for sure.’ Bloody Panzers, load of rubbish, they’ll find out who’ll win this war. King’s Royal Rifles wade towards us, rifles held above their heads, Royal Tank Regiment, Royal Signals, some drift by us, some are dead. ‘What do the people back in England … what do they think to our retreat?’ A fusilier, eyes staring downwards: ‘What do they think of our defeat?’ ‘I’ll tell you this, lad, they all love you — and they long to tell you so When at last we land at Dover, thousands there will let you know.’ Turn the boat round: ‘No more room, lads,’ point at England, head for home, ‘Won’t be long, lads, we’ll be seeing you, and don’t forget, you’re not alone.’ Drinks of cocoa, bread and dripping, huddled heroes fill the bow Heroes, every man at Dunkirk, even though returning now. Marianne serves up the dinner, me and Jack both eat our pie Then me and Jack head back for Dunkirk — me and Jack prepared to die.

Joan Wallace, Beeston, Nottingham.