Andrew Shiston Biography

Come with me to this Island in the sea
Tears of stone shed by ancient mountains bones
The curving shore for all good men to see
...

The fog is lifting and the foghorn silent
On the point of Portland Bill
The lighthouse light extinguished
Only seagulls now are shrill
...

This Island, this out-thrust spit of land
At the end of miles of stone
Where on the farthest cliff-top
A lighthouse stands alone
...

Seagulls soaring over white water
Wings stiff in the black sky
Storm clouds race the raging wind
As breaking seas crash by
...

The sky grows dark, seagulls scream
The wind begins to howl
The storm is close, we cringe with fear
The sea grows larger still
...