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The Dominie's Yarn By David Grant - 11 August 1858

6th February 2006

This poem was one of a few written by David Grant in Huna Inn guest book 1859. It has ben sent in by Hugh Ross. The Huna Guest book is also referred to in a Caithness Field Club article written in 1982 by Hetty Munro and can be found at
The Huna Guest Book

The Dominie's Yarn
Or, A Harbour of Refuge at Wick

Were I a man of consequence,
In a place of high command,
I would cry unto our gracious Queen,
That rules our native land.

I would reason with the Minister
That guides the helm of State,
And wrestle with the Parliament
When it sits in great debate.

I would tell of thrice five hundred boats
On a tempest-ridden sea,
With never a creek on all the coast
Where a dozen dare to flee.

A coast from which the mountain waves
A hurled in sheets of foam,
Where the fisher finds the fiercest surge
On the threshold of his home.

I would point to mothers husbandless,
And children sparely fed,
To hoary age and helpless youth
Sustained on parish bread.

To those whose brave supporters 'scaped
In distant Oceans roar,
And perished at the feet of friends
Along the Caithness shore.

I would cry to those in place and power,
By whom the laws are made,
To free a fisher from needless risk
When out on his perilous trade.

To free his wife from anxious nights,
And her morns of painful doubt,
And the nervous fears that chill her blood,
When the winds are loud without.

What matter to her that Britain boasts
The mastery of the waves,
When the northern fishermen year by year
Are swept to ocean graves?

When oft as the thundering surge is heard
And the angry tempests rise,
They find themselves and their helpless boats
At the mercy of seas and skies.

What matter to her that our Navy rides
Unmatched by foreign foe,
When she and hers must shiver in dread
As oft the breezes blow?

When danger looms on their weather bow,
And certain death on the lee,
When all save the westerly breezes sweep
The face of the German Sea !

We spent our gold and poured our blood
For the unbelieving Turk ;
Can nought be done for brothers at home-
Have we nought for Chistian work ?

We armed our fleets to scour the seas,
And battle for Negro rights;
Is there none to look to the northern shores
And plead for defence to the Whites ?

It is not a squadron of armed ships
Maintained at vast expense,
'T is only a wall against the waves
We ask for the fishers' defence.

A haven to which he can run in a gale
Is all the protection we seek;
A fourth of a million of paltry pounds
To spend on the Bay of Wick.

Canisbay, 11th August 1858 David Grant