Joining in the 1950’s

By Alan Rawlinson

It doesn’t seem so long ago,
the winches hissing and clanking in the snow.
There’s a lovely smell of warmed up oil and steam,
and Copra’s spread there, on the beams.

Hoses, cables, boards, and battens,
are strewn around in  random patterns.
There was nothing like a Bank Line ship,
home at last, from a 2 year trip.

See the cabins, glossy white,
narrow bunks with quilts tucked tight,
Then comes the tea, thick and treackly,
brought by stewards, ever so meekly.

So, an alien world, but let it be known,
some of us, – we called it home!

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