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Posted 16:52

Sat, 22 Jan 2011
Another poem from the wonderful Alfred Noyes, a little sad this one from 1917



A Song for the Trawlers

By Alfred Noyes

Dark, dark lay the drifters against the red West

As they shot their long meshes of steel overside;

And the oily green waters were rocking to rest

When Kilmeny went out, at the turn of the tide;

And nobody knew where the lassie would roam,

For the magic that called her was tapping unseen,

It was wellnigh a week ere Kilmeny came home,

And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.

She'd a gun at her bow that was Newcastle's best

And a gun at the stern that was fresh from the Clyde,

And a secret her skipper had never confessed,

Not even at dawn, to his newly-wed bride;

And a  wireless that whispered above, like a gnome,

The laughter of London, the boasts of Berlin . . . .

O, it may have been mermaids that lured her from home;

But nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.

It was dark when Kilmeny came home from her quest

With her bridge dabbled red where her skipper had died;

But she moved like a bride with a rose at her breast,

And Well done, Kilmeny! the Admiral cried.

Now, at sixty four fathom a conger may come

And nose at the bones of a drowned submarine;

But - late in the evening Kilmeny came home,

And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.

There's a wandering shadow that stares at the foam,

Though they sing all the night to old England, their queen.

Late, late in the evening, Kilmeny came home,

And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.

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