Written by Wilbert Snow, this intriguing three-page poem is the third found in Maine Coast. The first of two parts is provided for readers who may wish to read the entire sea-life poem.
Slim George McGoon on Sunday night
Had just one answer, “That’s a’ right,”
To every questioning of mine,
When I was a but a child of nine,
And he was on his weekly bout
With Scotch, his lotus flower for doubt.
He staggered from the barn or shed,
Whose stanchions flocked about his head,
Past cluttered pick-axes and hoes,
And other obstacles that rose
To make his progress one long maze
Of fresh adventures lost in haze.
My mother often took the key
And went away forgetting me.
Out playing in his yard next door
With pups or kittens, half a score,
Where tiredness waylaid my eyes,
Taking its toll of childhood cries,
Till he would come and hold me tight
In his rough arms, with, “That’s a right.”
Once when my sister tore her dress
And no help came from my caress,
He stumbled out to soothe her plight
With “That’s a’ right, child, that’s a’ right.”