Many birds flock ’round the ferry,
Though to us ’tisn’t very scary,
To prey on man they have no wish,
Their only aim is a dish of fish.
The bandit osprey with dark eye stripes
Clutches his catch as through the air he knifes.
He bends and devours the fish in his talons
As he keeps on the number 3 piling his balance.
The car-laden ferry is blazoned “Surry,”
As it smoothly speeds we have no worry.
While we ride from Jamestown to Scotland bank
For a father’s health our God we thank.
Yes, we saw some names while driving, that we really ought to share,
Up Virginia’s Eastern Shore, through Maryland, to Delaware.
Nassawadox, Chesapeake, and Pocomoke, and Chincoteague,
Muttonhunk, and Kiptopeke, and Nanticoke, and Assateague,
Dumpling Neck, Pohanka, Machipongo, also Pungoteague,
Savage Ditch, Metompkin, Slumpdown, Thimble Shoal, and Wachapreague,
Melfa, Saxis, Marumsco, Rehoboth, Nandua, Exmore,
Kegotank, Pitch Kettle, Accomac, Gargatha, and some more.
Nassawadox means “The Land Between Two Waters,” said the sign;
For translations of the other names, your guess ’s as good as mine.
If Minnesota had a Packer
That they named a ball team after
And they bought some coats
To keep the players warm before they play,
Then as opponents stood there freezin’
In the wintry football season
For their Minnesota Packer parkas
They’d yell, “Hip, hooray!”
(This poem was inspired by my wife’s long swim parka. She wore it here in North Carolina on the day that the Minnesota Vikings played at the Green Bay Packers.)