“An ode to hard tack”

O brittle square of sailor’s hoard,  
You humble board at sea,  
Embossed with punctured pin-prick marks—  
A shipman’s legacy.  
When winds howled wild and salt was thick  
And waters clapped the bow,  
To you, stout slab of iron wheat,  
We bent our weary brow.  

No sugared dream, no pillowed loaf  
Of cities left behind,  
Yet sturdier by far than both—  
Long months your strength we find.  
We dunk you deep in briny stew,  
Or cradle you in tea;  
Your dryness split the mighty tooth—  
But gave us constancy.  

With rum or water scant and weak,  
With salted pork or beans,  
Through doldrums, storms, or star-bright calms,  
You’re there by any means.  
A meager feast, a stubborn brick,  
Enduring time and tide—  
O hard tack, in the seaman’s yarn,  
Your legend will abide.  

You taste of hardship, grit, and tales  
That echo on the swell.  
You anchor hearts to distant lands,  
On journeys none can tell.  
So here’s to you, old sailor’s friend—  
A chew, a crack, a song!  
May every crumb that’s won at sea  
To hungry souls belong.

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