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HERRING CROON Gordon Bok Where do you go, little herring? What do you see, tail-and-fin? "Blue and green, cold and dark, Seaweed growing high, Hills a hundred fathom deep Where the dead men lie, Dogfish eyes and mackerels' eyes, And they hunger after me; Net or weir, I don't care, Catch me if you can." Where do you go, little boat? (Tar and timber, plank and sail) "I go to green bays, Lift them under me, Cold grey combing seas Come to bury me, Rocky jaws and stony claws, And they hunger after me; Harbors cold and deep and bold, Wish that I could see." What do you see, fisherman? (Poor old sailor, blood and bone) "Mackerel skies, mares' tales; Reef and furl and steer. Poor haul and hungry days. Rotten line and gear, Snow wind and winter gales. And they hunger after me; Net or weir, I don't care, Catch you if I can. Where do you go, little herring? What do you see, tail-and-fin? "Blue and green, cold and dark, Seaweed growing high, Hills a hundred fathom deep Where the dead men lie, Dogfish eyes and mackerels' eyes, And they hunger after me; Net or weir, I don't care, Catch me if you can."

    


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