The Fishermen

The fishermen toiled in the angry depths.
No catch for them to reward their toil,
So back to the beach and drag the nets
Despondent and slow, tired and done.
The mist hangs over the cliffs, but lo!
'Tis smoke for sure, the fishermen saw
A figure in white, by a fire with a fork
Tossing fish until brown and crisp,
The fishermen watch fascinated, afraid,
But the figure beckons, "Come nigh, come nigh!"
"'Tis the Master," they cry, and cluster around
And enjoy the meal, so lovingly served.

AThe Fishermen

A voice breaks the peace, and four eyes meet!
"Lovest thou me?" rings from holy lips.
"You knowst that I do," the assured reply
Came from Peter, with a tear in his eye.
"Then feed my lambs and do not cry!"
"Lovest thou me?" again rings through the air
"0 how can you doubt me my Master, my dear,"
"Then feed my sheep and do not fear,
And remember the love betwixt us both,
And go serve my brothers and one another
For ever, my Rock, for ever and ever!"

Sheila Jakobsson