In the expanse of jackpines and ocean spray,
with dreams and hands that are skilled,
where lobsters swim and seagulls play,
steel draggers were built, but nightmares killed-
Maine mussels, sea cucumbers, and Thunder Bay,
The dead man’s son emerged, a guide lost at sea,
Steel draggers for all. It was a dreamer’s display.
As vessels sank in a regret-laden plea.
Fishermen once sailed with the light of day,
The Cove witnessed their birth, with pride,
The honest dollar grew, but shadows held sway.
Fate twisted with a darkening tide,
and the Lobster fleet held out for pay,
Maine muscle, addicts’ debt, secrets to hide.
Fishermen’s sons around the bonfire gather,
The dead man’s son cast a shadow wide,
In name only, a legacy they’d rather shatter.
As the fishing fleet set out, they lost their guide.
The empty vessels, the souls, sank in a sea of regret,
The honest dollar turned to a deadly tide.
shifting to the group’s muscle and an addict’s debt-
the many unnamed with secrets to hide.
Whispers of vice, these are fish that never swam,
Bonfires blaze, a game where no one wins,
The shell became the drug, a perilous clan.
Raising money for a three-legged dog amidst grins.
Fishermen’s sons, bound by neither honor nor shame,
Little is known of the dead man’s sins
Lobster fleets anchor tangled in the coastal game.
Too distant, the vessel, the soul, is left adrift at sea,
Celebrations echo with laughter and pain.
Big Brother waits, but they remain free.
Accusations are hurled, threats to their claim.
Lobster boats bring bounty not born in the tide,
The fleet elusive, in the underworld’s trance,
In Thunder Bay, shadows hide on the rocky side.
With some laying traps, it is a dangerous romance.
Big Brother waits but they never arrive at the dock,
One son departs, never to be seen again.
In Thunder Bay, shadows creep carrying packages of rock.
And one son leaves in a body bag stoned cold,
Overdosed on lobster, they say with a sigh,
some stories are better left untold.
The squid queen’s coronation beneath the bloody sky.
in the whispering waves, where the ocean’s secrets lie.
The fleet remains elusive in the underbelly.
A squid queen slips away in disgrace, and no one asks why.
The dog’s leg remains infected and smelly
The real heroine crowned, no one speaks of the affair.
In the tale of Maine, where waters run deep,
Overdosed as the stench of low tide remains in the air,
The secrets of Thunder Bay, the ocean will keep.