Amy Young Miller asked me to write the back story to my poem Srimshaw, so here it is…

A young boy when he went to sea,

He learned his craft whilst being afloat,

His loves, to sail and cookery,

He started as scivvy on his first boat.

He learned to cook as he learned to fish,

To weigh the anchor, to set the sail,

He considered what to cook as his next dish,

As he went about his work each day.

In a whirlwind he met and married his wife,

The barmaid at The Field Gun,

But he left her for his ship, his life,

Yet always provided for her and his son.

As the years went by his fame just grew,

For his culinary skills, his artistry,

His comrades were glad to be in his crew,

Yet he returned each year to his family.

He travelled the world in the Anna Marie,

From Port of Spain to Zanzibar,

He sent mementoes to his son, Davy,

From destinations near and far.

As an old sea dog, his time was done,

His death approached and it was swift,

But he carved some scrimshaw for his son,

It was his last, loving, parting gift.