The Tune of Youth
Down by the sea, the strand
Marched the three, a piper band.
Rhythm strong, the notes low and
high,
Bellows rocked the musical staff ay
and bye.
The melody called out to the sky,
the sea.
Gather the fishes to feast, let
Poseidon be.
Local fishermen on the diamond sand
Remember the crabs’ wild dance on
land.
Balanced vertical on one claw,
pointed
The crabs’ free claw swung
disjointed.
When sunlight departed and darkness
fell
The piper band summoned waves to swell.
The sea mythically chained to the
moon’s tug
Rose to the height of a clothesline
pinned rug.
In repetition the three piper’s
tune did lose
The strength of the new in its
silent repose.
Then too, the rally of rebellion
was ever lost
As Fenian sons on coffin ships the
sea tossed.
Never forgotten the fresh, strange
rapture of joy
Always beholden if the heart met a
broken toy.
When youth and dreams are old, out
of sight.
No piper tune vanishes the
villager’s plight.
The baggy eyes become sad and
swollen.
Still so when the far sea dawn is
golden.
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