Fishing Trawler

Well I can hear the fishing trawlers off the shore
And I can see unshaven men
They smell of fish and yet they’ve hardly begun
The waves wash the cork on the dim lit shore
Yes I’ve been tumbled and sorted
And I’ve been turned inside out
By all this colour and movement
And everything is how it should be
I can hear the women washing in their tubs
And I can hear them sing their songs
They wipe their sweat and then they splash
The water round and round
Slap each other on the back