When I look to the sea I think of time, with its horizon
that great dividing line.
I see the ships that crossed her waters, one's that had sailed with
rat infested quarters; yet they sailed so proudly from our shore
not knowing what they would find on their new neighbours door.
Immigrant's by the thousands queued upon the sand because the blighted
potato was left to the land.
Time passes on, and there were times that were great,
when sea captains fought no matter what there fate.
Times with brandy and smugglers caves, shipwrecks gone to
watery graves. Like The Mary Rose and King Henry's treasure,
then when it was discovered it gave such pleasure.
The reading of books with Hawkins the boy, great discovery's
and land ahoy.
Swashbuckling pirates have a place in time, when they walked
the plank that was the end of the line
Time never stands still as the waves roll on, they are just like
a clock with a loud sounding gong
You can stand and watch them crash upon the shore but all they are
doing is knocking on our front door.
