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Good times at the Lobster Pot
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There is history under each wooden floorboard,
a singing weight wherever you head toward,
many have stared out through glass to the sea,
on the ever-moving waves set free
to be oysters opening, to see diamonds dancing
in the eyes of naked swimmers, backward glancing
with no shame, it takes your breath away
how quickly tomorrow becomes yesterday.
Nearby, in darker depths, a jaded diver has been restrung
finding a denarii with Hadrian's face smoothed young,
Outlanders in the distance visit Blackness castle,
and poets conjure deep verse from all the years hassle.
Did you know Robert Louis Stephenson was here?
Rabbie Burns too? Now that's a gnatter I'd like to hear!
A mermaid is just over my shoulder and you will
never believe who has sat down near the window sill,
I'll tell you more about it over a cool well-pulled pint
near a warm fire, a tale like a ship is always leaving port.