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On the beach lies the hull of an old fishing boat,
It's been quite a while since that skiff was afloat;
Aged by the weather and bleached by the sun,
Its workday all over and a long rest begun.
And if old boats could talk what a tale they would tell,
Of the brothers, the sons and the fathers;
Carved into time with a tear for each line,
Shed by the mothers and daughters;
Of the brave men who sailed on the waters.