One clear and cloudless morn,
Under the blast of a summers scorn,
He sets forth on a quest,
on a battle, on a test.

Armed for his struggle,
With Rod, Reel and bait,
He launches his craft,
And never, no never looks back

On the shore a lonely women gives a forlorn wave,
Her stomach knotted and twisted,
Will my man survive,
Will he make it back

Hours pass, the sun lays low,
A red glow over the still seas,
The fisher-man returns...spent, but not defeated,
He has conqured the beast's, the denizens of the deep.