Ebb And Flow Poem by John Molloy

The tide to west, the breeze to east
Thinking of my troubles least,
Upon my quay gazing south
A Dublin black, a Northern lout;
A green reflection on my face
All that's come and gone to taste.

A product of this vain am I
Alike to waste and amble by.

Though thinks me not to worry now
I but to sit and burn a brow,
Awaiting as the city drains
To soon return without its pains;
As an Artery again will be
The Liffey that gives life to me.