NEWFOUNDLAND

We climbed on up to Signal Hill

this wild and windy day

the dancing wildflowers bowed and bobbed

St.John’s beneath us lay

The ships, the fishers, trawlers all

with maple leaf on high

plough up the choppy waters back

with shoal and flock and fly

We stood above where gulls float by

just daring us to try

to beat the gusty bracing bursts,

refusing, then they cry

McDermott sighed for Donegal,

for Glasgow and the foam;

Kearns saluted Ireland’s bold

who crewed the anchor home

My life has been in harbour safe

but few as grand I’ve seen;

a long way now from here to Cork

with Neptune in between

Marconi’s ghost stood quietly by

still fiddling with his kites;

he said he kept the radio on

to hear our songs at night

They say the women here are fine

to men they’re seven to one!

so if you haven’t found a wife

St.John’s could be some fun!

(Finbar Wright/copyright/xxvi.ix.mmv)

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