The Kittiwake Lightship

Tethered, tossed and twinkling,
A beckoning beacon between bar and bull,
Paving pathways in a bending bay of swirling
surf and smiling shores.
Invitation to our harbour of doubt
Failte, céad mile, come surge like a storm
in our settling stout.

Tested in tempests and sentenced to
stall, like a nervous rider upon galloping waves
of emigrants tears.
Wave goodbye mo mhuirnín slán
wave, wave goodbye.
Past patriots past poets passed you by,
wave goodbye mo ghíle mear
wave, wave goodbye.

Searching, a sentinel for ships in the night
Signalling, shimmering, greeting never meeting
but waiting for safe returns.
A ray in our bay of hope
lux iter para tutum,
Set as a stone in a river of tides
a red rock to cherish as sanctuary calls.

Crimson clarion of comings and goings
gathering Gaels amid gales and squalls.
Restless and breathless in swelling storms.
A hulking heaving breaker, anchored in place
the hobblers marker in life’s great race.
Rowing in tides as the prize comes in
a race against time no one can win.