November 1966 Price 9d.

Vol.5 No.25

By Michael Fanning
I sat on a seat
With composure complete
While the sea birds
Around me did soar
Dressed down in white, flying
And on with delight
By the harbour of old Colimore.
I looked towards the south
Where the Sound has its mouth
And the island displays
A green shore
Rock bound, bleak and bare,
With a pure pleasant air
By the harbour of old Colimore.
I beheld that old main
Which Cromwell profane
With his guns and vile army once tore,
Causing ruin and woe
Where blessings did flow
Around the harbour of old Colimore.
The Muglins so grand
Where the cormorants stand
To rest when their diving strength wore,
'Tis a picture most sweet
To view from the seat
By the harbour of old Colimore.
Howth lovely to view,
Yon the waves rippling hue
And the steamers
Whose loud whistles roar,
And the ships in full sail
Trudging on through the gale
Along to coast
That makes out "Elsinore",
To the left as you look
Out to sea,
Cross the harbour of old Colimore.
Now the fishermen there -
None with them can compare
To young men - to men of that hour:
For they re always found kind
With a good natured mind
By the harbour of old Colimore.
There's Billy Smith with love full
And old Jack - called "The Gull",
Mick Hammond - as brave as a boar,
Dick Archbold so free,
And the good Murrays three,
All live round the old Colimore.
May blessings come down
On these men of renown
That live by the line, net, and oar,
May they rear up a breed
That shall always succeed -
'Tis my wish - by the old Colimore

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