A Boaty’s Tale

Rogers boat
It was time and more, to bring Freya ashore
To indulge and make her like new.
By Roger we’re told, the wind and the cold
Made sail days, disappointingly few.

A woman she’s not, but Freya’s his yacht
Moored upwind in the bay.
With her there’s no tension, or need for pretension,
She reduces the stress of his day.

Roger’s rhythmic sweep, of the paddles in deep
Drove the kayak across the lagoon,
Against the wind and the tide, he paddled with pride,
To be with his Freya by noon.

He watched Freya glide, on the trailer to ride,
He’d left submerged in the water,
Till the boat, no longer afloat
Was safely on the transporter.

Roger tied down the craft, both fore and the aft
To ensure his yacht was secure.
Her hull he checked, and tidied her deck,
For she was, his cynosure.

He revved the Pajero, he’d be the hero
And transfer the yacht onto land.
But with the trailer stuck fast, He sat there aghast
The Pajero bogged deep in the sand.


Not to be outdone, the task to be won
Roger then called on his mate.
With the Discovery in front, to give it more grunt
The Pajero would exit this state.

But alas and alack, no joy on the track
For they both stood fast in the sand.
Two heads were scratched, more plans were hatched
To bring the boat Freya to land.

Unhitched from the boat, the Pajero remote
A new plan began to emerge.
The Discovery’s winch, would be the cinch
And we’d see the trailer resurge.

A shovel in hand, Roger dug in the sand
To try and release his trailer
It had to come, ‘fore the peak of the sun
Or the task would be labelled a failure.

They contemplated their plight, then had an insight
The solution was perfectly clear
If the cable could lift, the drawbar would shift
When the winch was put into gear.

The cable pulled taut, it was just as they thought
The solution was just as they planned.
Out of the deep, the trailer did creep
And soon stood safe on the sand.

Roger’s face beamed anew, and ‘t is said there were few
Whose face could be shining so bright.
The goal had been set, and all objectives were met
When the trailer did hove into sight.

With Freya tied fast they lowered the mast
It was time to retreat from the beach.
The job had been done, the battle was won,
High-fives were given by each.

Freya now sits on the hard, in Roger’s front yard
Where she displays her beauty and grace,
A recipient of care, when Roger is there
His ‘other woman’, has a prominent place.


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