Martin Byrne

ALL THE LITTLE BOATS ARE GONE

THEY’RE JUST A MEMORY SO FOND

SO RAISE YOUR GLASS AND SHED A TEAR

TO MEMORIES THAT ARE SO DEAR

IN THE TOWN WHERE I WAS BORN, JUST BEFORE THE BREAK OF DAWN

THE LITTLE BOATS ALL PUT TO SEA , WITH THEIR MARK OF DIGNITY

I WATCHED THEM ALL SIX SEVEN EIGHT JUST LIKE SWANS UPON A LAKE

AS OUT ACROSS THE WAVES THEY’D FLY TO WHERE THE SEA IT TOUCHED THE SKY

PAST THE POINT AT SIX O CLOCK HEADING ON OUT PAST THE ROCK

TO CAST THEIR NETS AND HAUL AWAY RETURNING AT THE EVE OF DAY

BUT CRUEL TIMES THEY DID APPEAR AND WITH THE PASSING OF THE YEARS

THE LITTLE BOATS LEFT ONE BY ONE UNTIL THE DAY WHEN THERE WAS NONE

MARTIN BYRNE