The Forsaken Fish House
Aged, decrepit premises
On the threshold of the bay
Encircled by a neighbourhood
Of caplin spawn and spray
Your empty doorway yawns at life
You knew more generous times
Salt-bulk stacked up, heads and tails
Among killicks, nets and lines
Your decomposing platform
On rinded longers made
Once held hands with hawsers
As skiffs bobbed in your shade
Your splitting table, battered now
Is bending at the knees
Where once the codfish, plenty
Were disembowelled with ease
Your hollow, vacant, gaping loft
Once echoed through the rafters
On wintry nights, while mending nets
With songs and yarns and laughter
Forsaken little fish house
You felt harmony and strife
You tallied codfish on your walls
And you tallied someone's life
“I wrote this poem in 1985 when there was only one fish house left down to the Gut.” - Marina
Marina is the daughter of the late Mrs. Aggie (Mooney) and Mr. John.