Captain John Reid and The Mermaid

Sailing out from the harbour through the firth,
Pulling rough cap over his head, standing drizzled,
In the familiar pounding and soaking he knew so well.
Percussion of the waves in vengeful orchestra.
Then his nets tugged, up he pulled a beauty,
Tail slapping on the deck, eager to cast away
From the cold sour planks of her imprisonment.
Captain spreads the cold light of lantern,
The brightness already dying in her eyes.
“Three wishes,” she breathes, conscious as cockleshells,
The strangest escapade in his long life.
So is his first wish granted.

Not quite the catch he was used to,
Scales shining in silver moonlight.
Her breathing growing ragged,
Hoping for compassion in his hard lined face,
Slipping on the wooden deck towards freedom,
Frustrated by the heavy coils of coarse hemp,
She nods for his second wish,
That long and successful career.

Preparing to throw her back in,
Light rekindles in her dying eyes
As he knows he cannot keep her,
Strange denizen of the deep.
Thinking, as often, of the girl down the street,
The one he used to tease
Grown graceful as a swan.
The nets rise up, the nameless fishwife slides
Downward, inward and below,
Turning, her golden hair trailing,
Her life spared till the next time caught.
So the captain tells his grandchildren,
Descendants of his successful suit.