Old Men and the Sea

I’ve seen the fisherman,
that Papa Hemmingway once wrote about
and heard the tales that they’d spin out
at night when they had hung their purse seines
up to dry.

Did they speak of mermaids then
and one-eyed whales,
and willing Cuban whores
who'd rut for days?

Ah yes, they did,
But only to the gullible
who'd stand them drinks
in recompense for being swayed
within the magic of their words.

Oh, how these winking men,
these old salt-lying piscators,
were sly.