By Rathlin Isle Poem by jim hogg

The wind blows o'er the Money head
There's Rathlin o'er the deep blue dance
Don't ask me now why I don't care
For all the things I lived for once.

The mainsail's full of memories
The forecast is a hurricane
For Malin, Rockall, Hebrides
To test this spirit in the waves

Don't tell me there's another way
A harbour where there's romance moored
And herring glistening in the spray
Before we shake the silver hook


The mainsail's filled with hurricane
The forecast is more memories
There's black clouds over Galloway
And all the leaves are off the trees

The great Atlantic furrows call
A thousand fathoms deep or more
Where lie the bones of oarsmen lost
Free men who sailed beyond the shore

By Rathlin Isle where Bruce once bled
Beyond the stone, beyond the caves
The modern world's great spider's web
You take the chains, I'll take the waves


Don't tell me all about the past
It's on the chart here in my hand
We sailed out from High Ardwell Bay
And that spring day the die was cast

The sea was still, the sun was high
We worked the creels to Money Head
But Lady Fortune spun the wheel
The dogstar shone; the moon turned red

And set me on the rule bound road
Where men are smothered by their dreams
I shaped myself to match the load
Where even sunlight disappears


The mainsail's full of memories
The forecast is a hurricane
For Malin, Rockall, Hebrides
That spell has taken hold again

The great Atlantic furrows call
A thousand fathoms deep or more
Where lie the bones of oarsmen lost
Free men who sailed beyond the shore

The deep blue invitation rides
To Rockall from Bluebonnet cliff
In heart that slowly bleeds away
Upon the wheel, upon the wind


14 06 09