off the shore of the sea there's a village
whereby fishery's mainly its trade
and though most of its faces are rough and uncut
to the last one- each man makes the grade

not for riches is anyone wanting
though not one has seen gold in his life
but he's thankful for all he pulls of the the sea
and for health in his children and wife

but you might ask 'now how is it possible
'for a town of such like-minded men?
where even the simplest one of the lot
'pared with gentry is worth at least ten?'

it's a treasure they've found in the pale sunburnt sand
where the waterline dashes its curls
it's a sparkling gem that they manage to share
which is free but is worth more than pearls

it's a small little thing called compassion
and its's fueled by a kinship and care
it's a current abound in this small coastal town
and it sweetens the salt in the air

not a soul there is caught in the ratrace
for they know of no family named 'jones'
but the concept of 'what's mine is yours' is a term
that's netted deep down in their bones

it's a beacon of life force that permeates
through the veil of thin mist and thick foam
it's a light that beams through, calloused skin dyed with blue
it's the reason i call the place 'home'