I Am A Fisherman

I am a fisherman.
Salt is my sugar, salt is my malt

I fear men who sleep, and wake aloof
Beneath the moon I lie,
‘waiting the summer tide
Whose snug wave I pray
Mackerel my chills away

I am a fisherman.
Knees wet, yet ankles dry
Wings of lace that pry too high,
Upon the white gulls I parlay,
The Lord’s herring me pray