furry jack the one-eyed stoat
longtime captain of a sailing boat
sailed the seas in search of trove
then
buried it all in a secret cove
he started out as plain old jack
but owned a hammer, some nails, a shack
and built a boat from bits of stuff
bashing wood till he'd bashed enough
when it was done he dragged his boat
from shack to shore where, yes, it did float
so packing some cheese and crackers too
jack pushed off onto the briney blue
no sailor yet the stoat
learned fast
as wave on wave his small boat lashed
he headed south where trove he'd heard
was lying in piles by a hopping bird
for days then weeks the
stoat made south
boat and builder full in the mouth
of fearsome gales without a lull
which pushed him on till a herring gull
off to port and flying high
signalled land was just nearby
jack tacked
and turned and spied the land
and beached the boat
on a beach of sand
hopping out he looked around
for all the food that
could be found
until by tea industrious jack
had gathered enough to fill a big sack
hopping back in his
provisioned boat
intrepid jack the sailing stoat
made full speed for the southern seas
eating porridge in the chilly breeze
skilful now the weeks
had past
jack shinnied up the trusty mast
to ask a seagull perched up there
if it knew of trove and where
the seagull pointed saying 'yes
the trove is that way at a guess
it's not far captain, the place is nice
home of birds who live on ice.'
within a day cliffs hove to view
an immense immensity primordial but new
granite of black and ice of white
rose from the ocean to terrific height
birds of all kinds whirled round that
rock
as jack and the boat came in to dock
tired without notice he stepped ashore
climbing with care to some birds that he saw
these black and white
birds, upright and tall,
quite unlike anything he'd
seen at all,
hopped on rocks or shuffled around
in crowds of some thousands making great sound
nearing their edge, he
asked the first bird
if it knew of the trove of
which he'd heard
reflecting a while the bird then
said
'yes friend, i do' and it tilted its head
'it's over that brow and
in the next bay
sitting in rockpools all through the
day
it's easy to find if you look with due care
but lost to the careless though they may stare.'
jack thanked the bird
and turned right about
to get sack and spade before
setting out
to climb the granite as he'd been told
to scale the ridge in the southern cold
once at the top he saw
down below
a starfield of tidepools to which he did
go
clambering nimbly with sack and short spade
the stoat reached a pool that just had been made
down went the sack at
the edge of the pool
jack kneeling swiftly to peer
at this jewel
and jewel it was, all glistening with
light,
where colours remarkable amazed his sight
he looked in for minutes
with his sharp eye
but trove wasn't found as the
hour went by
so the next nearest pool jack clambered
on to
a beautiful thing brimming with hue
a hundred pools were
looked in that day
but none yielded trove to be
taken away
so with spade under arm and an empty sack
back to his boat went the troveless jack
the stoical stoat who'd
sailed all this way
set off for the north at break
of next day
the fifties were blowing the boat made
good speed
as much as a stoat in a boat might need
alone on the deck except
for the spray
jack thought of the south as he worked
through the day
he thought of the pools and what he
found there
a bagful of nothing though he seemed not
to care
he wondered why
not then remembered his awe
at the beautiful hues
brimming galore
in each of the pools he'd looked in
that day
pools of clear memory he'd brought right
away
he pencilled a
line, writing with care
'i looked in the pools and
found something there'
he buried the note in a
secret cove
and that is where jack buried his trove.