Mullaghmore Poem by William Fay

I see captain your ruined ships,
Ghostly off Crete, off Mullaghmore,
Where your crew sinks through
Pools of fire, the dark waters,

To quick through the passing years;
To wash up, you know well Sea Lord,
This last veteran, brought north,
To be interned with the old crew,

Near the river of birth, the Kelly memorial.
Typically he wanted no fuss, only family,
A shipmate perhaps, although none could come,
And a boy bugler from the local cadets,

Waiting under the yew tree, the elm,
The leaves falling, then the rain,
To mark quietly this October morning,
A voyage ending, the last watch done.