Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

There are swans on the Corrib,

Along Quay Street the pubs are

Filled to overflowing.

They play Edith Piaf in cafes

While patrons patiently wait.

Outside, buskers ply their trade.

Behind the old Spanish Arch

We find the new Museum.

There, Johnny Faulkner and friends

Transport us with old sea-songs

Beyond the river’s open mouth

To Greenland whale fisheries.

Voices tell the shanties rhythms.

Eyes closed, to listen close,

I follow the music’s rise and fall.

Singers’ voices in harmony

Take us until we return

To the museum’s sunlit room.

Outside, the swans glide by, mute.

This was published as part of Kilkenny Library Poets on Board Scheme