The orange orb, we call, the sun arose,
the fishing fleet set out against the tide.
Waves swamped their wooden decks, to stall their glide.
The gale rose fast, the seaman's ride insane!
Sails taut, stiff winds did force their weak masts strain.
One dhow dropped down their sails and hit broadside,
the surge engulfed the ship but took the pain.
the best of crews need luck and this is plain.
But, smart are fleets that sail safe past the quay
across the breaks, out with the tide, so calm.
And rigs were cleared, nets then cast, the hunt began.
Those who sail with fair winds and sure calm seas
their nets raised full, the seas seem still, becalmed,
the mates and skippers knew the fishers won!
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