Down by the Stage Down by the stage in the landwash, where the salt water laps at the shore; Young boys catch tomcods and sculpins, their playground: the ocean at their door. Down by the stage in the landwash, where there's a lun spot from the wind; Old men stand around there and tell yarns, as one ends, then another begins. Down by the stage in the landwash, there are memories of yesterday's way; In the boards and the tubs and the longers; and the boats they used out on the bay. Down by the stage in the landwash, where many a trap-skiff has come in; The stage-head now weathered and leaning, is the essence of what we have been. Wayne Taylor, Bonavista   Submitted By: wayne taylor