Beleaguered fishermen stand gazing
At the ocean's vast expanse
In hope withal of some hefty catch,

Of salmon, or kingfish
To sell same in the village
Later that day,

To buy flagons of burning rum
And whiskey, made in some secret still
Behind the cove.......

Away from the prying eyes of the policeman
Now briskly walking, on his beat,
In a village

Where the sun meets the shimmering water
In a flash of liquid brilliance
And seagulls fly overhead,

With a screeching hoot
That signals the start of the rains,
In a village named after ''the washerwoman''.

ENOCH JOHN

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/village-life-2/