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February 2016

Sea Fever

By Local 2 Comments

(altered, adapted and extended by Kevin Hinshaw with acknowledgement and due respect to John Masefield 1878-1967)

A Tribute to Keith Ogier- Surfer and Cobo man (and boy). 

I must down to the seas again, to the glassy sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a surfboard and a skeg to steer her by,
And the rail’s chime and the waxed grip and the white waves breaking,
And a light offshore on the wave’s face, and waves there for just for the taking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a glassy day with my surfboard trimmed and sliding,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and all the sea-gulls crying.

I must travel far seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the surfer’s way and the explorer’s way, where empty waves are rife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when this long ride is over.

I must to our Surfer’s beach , sadly now washed away,

Where we’d BBQ and sing at night and sit and lie by day,

With long-boards high against the wall and us low to try to warm,

From too long riding chilly waves, sent forth from a far off storm.

I must to the seas again, to the lonely sea and sky,

To watch the surfers from the shore, and say a last goodbye.

To recall those heady days of youth, when life was just a game,

Surfing is still a special thing, but maybe not the same.

Oh to take down my board again, from its dusty rack,

And wax up and paddle out and sit right out the back;

And swing the board and paddle fast, as a wave doth hove,

And ride to shore hooting loud, into the reef’s alcove.

Pick up my board and sit by Jan, with my family and friends is best,

And watch the sun slip slowly to sleep, gently in the west.