In the wee waning hours…..on Old Darby Row,

Down by the docks with all riggings of ships,

So many ships,

Of three and four masts and cargo’s in tow,

There down on the wharf’s where frenzied seagulls scrounged,

Amongst stevedores and pulleys and a tide’s ebb and flow,

Where old barrooms full of sailors and toughies all lounged,

Drinking and fighting with soon quainted  friends,

And doing the same with newly made foe,

There under the moon and lamp lights aglow,

Down by the docks…..on Old Darby Row.

Just after the noon bell…..on Old Darby Row,

Down in the harbor with ship’s traffic gone sailed,

All sailing for places,

So far away places,

Where book readers and school boys all and all longed to go,

There down where returning sailors passed by wing and wing,

Heading fast for tired stevedores pulling ropes all but slow,

Where old men gruff told their stories and sometimes would sing,

Of their travels and adventures, but mostly of where they loved to be so,

There in the warm sunlight ‘bove waves to and fro,

Down in the harbor…..on Old Darby Row.

Not long before nightfall…..on Old Darby Row,

Down ‘long the piers with boxes all stacked,

Boxes and barrels of porcelain, tea, and rum

Waiting for horse and wagon and their final stow,

There down in the backwash did gathered seals bark a’ loud,

As the shouts of the stevedores hoisting goods had to grow,

Where young lads clambered boldly up the ratlines and shrouds,

Then shimmied down swiftly the backstays with a throw,

There in the twilight by the day’s pass alow,

Down ‘long the piers…..on Old Darby Row.

by John Patrick Seekamp 2015