May 9, 1502

Tis th’ moment, th’ sound o’ th’ anchor risin,’

Th’ smel o’ soil soon tae be but a mem’ry,

Th’ winds a fillin’ th’ sheets, an’

Th’ great meestery o’ darkness,

Nae a star tae follow,

Th’ sky indeed covers a mighty sea.

Tis th’ primal day

th’ first hour of te sun

th’ first wind to blow us south

It is th’ quest fo’ Eldorado

th’ cities o’ gold an’ gem

Tis th’ quest tae find where east meets west

th’ Silk Road

th’ Great Wall

An’ th’ halls of th’ Emperor King

Tis th’ primal day o’ great portent

This will be oor tide

This will be oor fortune

This will bring us favour

Every mother’s son of us

Will rise tae meet th’ morn

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The Stores

Mak ready, coil th’ ropes

Set your stores ablow.

fair th’ hulls

load the tuns

an’ th’ flagons

stow the oakum

An’  blacken th’ sides wi’ pitch

Mak ready for th’ roll o’ th’ sea . . .

Th’ sirens be a calling

Th’ sea beasties in oor wake

Shed thair tears fo’ our course intae

Th’ great unknown

Beyon’ th’ Great Sargasso Sea

Be it known by their wives and young’uns

They sailed into th’ legendary deep

In search of destination

Raise a toast tae their fair landing

May there be a welcome home

A safe harbour to drop their anchor

A hearth tae keep them warm

Brothers in arms tea keep them safe

Meat roasting on th’ spit an’

Grog tae wash it down,

A net for them to sleep

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Sanctuary on the Via de Santiago

Whe’ wrathful blows th’ foamy

An’ th’ win` cuts tae th’ marrow

An’ th’ clouds drap doon thair ire

wi’ a mighty fis’ and breath.

Come seek for th’ sheltering bosom

‘yon th’ wavy tunder.

A place called home it kin nae be

it may be a place o’ shelter all th’ same

hidden behin’ th’ soun’s o’ surf

hidden below th’ gusts o’ win’

a place made safe by men o’ cloth

safer since the day o’ birth

a place tae welcome men o’ peace

and men o’ wealthy means

a welcome station tae all in need

a place where pilgrims lay secure

on th’ way tea bend their knees

tae man worthy o’ this geste

No one knows its name

Yet everyone knows its place

A gentle path by a river stream

Beneath th’ tunnel of trees

Nah far beyond th’ olive groves

Within th’ memories of th’ sea

No home tae sin, no home tae pain

No watch list made man tae fear

A welcome tea believers

A welcome tea th’ pilgrim man

A welcome tae th’ peregrine

Who walks without a course

There ye rest until th’ morn

Till need thee rest no more

Tea seek th’ pathways o’ th’ winds

Or tree line be far below

Tae seek ye audience with th’ sun

Tae hear th’ wisdom of th’ evenin win’

Tae find yourself th’ constant star

Tae guide yee tae your place called home

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Palos

City o’ th’ west

Maker o’ widows

Mater o’ orphans

releaser o’ sorrows

City o’ woes

thou art nah home tah me

City o’ th’ west

Gatherer o’ the lost

Gateway tah th’ abyss

Tah th’ yawning jaws o’

Bleak despair

City o’ th’ west

No place fur dreams or wants

Yee have taken me further

Than me reason tah live

Me reason fo’ th’ morrow

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The Portage

Ye can smell th’ fresh new season;

‘Tis in th’ air and in th’ moist turned brou.

‘Tis found in th’ wattles and

In th’ lapping o’ waves

In th’ green hills ‘n’ in th’

Purple lupins that blsses th’ fields with thair colors

Ye can hear th’ fresh new season

Befall th’ travelling bones

an’ in th’ hert wings o’ th’ puffins.

They hear the calling, th’ men o’ th’ sea

Tae be lost in countless days an’ nightfalls

Adrift in th’ endless faem.

Ye can smell th’ fresh new season;

Th’ winter’s foul coughing sends

vapors throughout th’ morning midcourse.

Ye can smell th’ filthy whores

and their soiled bedsheets,

Thair endless creations into

Th’ depths o’ human degradation

Tha’ each new morn brings

whilst th’ ships are run agroun’

th’ call of th’ sea and th’

waters beyond th’ horizon

they seek release

these men of th’ sea,

redemption

th’ return of innocence

th’ purity o’ th’ waves.

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The Quiet Men

Men o’ flesh ‘n’ bone

Sea faring men

Have forsaken thair mother’s arms

Fur th’ guilders an’mysteries o’ Calypso.

Men o’ flesh ‘n’ bone

Answer tae th’ call o’ th’ villain wind

She lures thaim frae th’ shores

Tae th’ sands o’ land nah jimmy haes tread upon afore

Men o’ flesh ‘n’ bone

Who follow stars unknown, stars uncharted

Fo’ the woes tha’ they may bring

Hame is th’ deck aneath their feet,

Sorrow is their ainlie faithful companion.

They gaze upon th’ purple twilight and th’ blackened waters

Throughout th’ deep dark night

They shed th’ tears in the silence o’ th’ nocturn

They sing their silent lament

“Cannah stay.”

“Cannah leave.”

“Cantnnah ever return.”

Men o’ flesh ‘n’ bone

Have left thair mother’s arms

Fur th’ mysteries o’ Calypso.

Men o’ flesh ‘n’ bone

Answer tae th’ call o’ th’ wind

She lures thaim frae th’ shores

Tae th’ sands o’ land nah jimmy haes tread upon afore

Men o’ flesh ‘n’ bone

Who follow stars unknown, stars uncharted

Hame is th’ deck aneath our feet,

Sorrow is their ainlie faithful companion.

They gaze upon th’ purple twilight and th’ blackened waters

Throughout th’ deep dark night

They shed th’ tears in the silence o’ th’ night

They sing their silent lament

“Cannah stay.”

“Cannah leave.”

“Cannah ever return.”

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The Ancient Queen

In the land called Tír na nÓg.

Frae th’ days of aulden wonders,

Frae th’ days of that first dawning,

Sin th’ days o’ a’ creation,

Frae th’ corners of th’ continent,

To th’ edges of th’ brim,

Across the Seven Seas,

Tis th’ nearest thing tah flying

Tha’ mortal man hath done.

Tis th’ nearest thing tah flying

Tha’ mortal man hath done.

Tis th’ wind th’ sail’s a fillin’,

and th’ bow that splits th’ waves,

and leaves th’ ghostly wake behind,

across the darkly deep,

Tis the landfall we’re a wanting,

An’ th’ trade winds that we seek.

An’ th’ trade winds that we seek.

Th’ tales o’ Leviathan sulking in the deep,

An’ legends of th’ beast, dancing in th’ lightning ‘n’ th’ tunder,

Legions of th’ winged ones striking with their claws,

An’ terror frae th’ frightful dreams tha’ haunt oor every nights,

I promise ye, tis a’ true, as true as th’ light o’ day.

When th’ Ancient Queen walked upon the land

And breathed her precious breath, an’ spake unto the wind,

Frae her first tah her last, as she sat upon her throne,

In the land called Tír na nÓg.

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Season of the Wind

Th’ toun has shut her eyelids tight,

Th’ selvic dwellers too,

An’ nae new place is safe fro’ lee

While angry seas blow foam.

Th’ seagull overlooks th’ toun,

the mastiff guards the bay,

‘n’ whin th’ footsteps o’ th’ moon

ur heard, he starts tae wail.

Th’ lunar winds engulf th’ gulf,

th’ waves then stairt tae spray.

th’ trees bow doon tae thair command,

leaves as well must hae thair say.

Throo’ out th’ toun th’ doors shut ticht,

throo ‘out th’ marsh ‘n’ glade,

th’ reeds awake frae apathy

for lithesome promenade.

Into th’ vestibule lemurs

teuk flight with their parade-

like march behind th’ lost brigade,

‘n’ shackled doon, thay stayed.

Th’ renegade ophidian

with rancor fo’ his might,

and shielded by th’ bonny dunes

he whets and hones with spite.

Th’ dories bob, th’ buoys roll,

an’ warning faggots glow

while Cyclops’ lamp, th’ eyes o’ land,

observes an’ feigns appall

At ghastly waves with snow crest peaks.

an’ rumbling overall

is heard as lightning burns th’ air

and maks th’ ground deep crawl.

Th’ giant sloth upon th’ bough

beholds with tempered chrome,

decides tha’ soon he must decide

about where he’s bound tah roam.

Saluki resting on th’ bier

embarks tah his new home     

but no new place is safe from lee

while angered seas blow foam.

Th’ town has closed her eyelids tight,

Th’ selvic dwellers flee,

but no new place is safe from lee

while angered seas blow foam.

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The Mariner’s Grief

Na a soul finds favor,

Nae one mother’s son.

Nae even th’ cauld stanes

Find rest inside the water kip.

Na beast is cried upon.

Na air remains tae breathe

Into oor lungs.

Na single thing is new,

Na mother’s son remains

Unspotted by th’ mudge,

As caller as th’ first beam of’ light

Tah reel upon th’ dew.

Th’ sweet guff o’ spring in bluim

An’  th’ cuil breeze fro’ th’ north landz

Everythin’ is wonderment

Whe’ th’ worl’ is yun,

Whe’ th’ worl’ is yun.

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Th’ Men o’ th’ Ocean Sea

It was th’ tide o’ kings an’ kingly men,

Whe’ the worl’ was young

It was a tide o’ greatness,

O’ great men, an’ great deeds,

An’ monumental moments.

Thay shook th’ pillars o’ heaven

whin thay traivelt upon th’ land

Th’ winds stood fast in thair presence

When the great ones stepped from their pavilions.

Thair voices raised were heard by all

Wi’ thair fists raised thay commanded the clouds

One and all shered in thair glory

Thay came ‘n’ thay teuk

They spread their great fortunes across the seas

Wi’ the constant star to guide them

Thay returned, nae as men, bit as legends

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