THE FLOOD (Paul O’Brien)


Early one morning as the rain it did fall

The water was rising all along the sea wall

The bridge it collapsed and the Tolka it rose

And Charlie put on his best sea-faring cloths


Heave ye ho! Heave ye ho!

with shovels and with spades we will row

heave ye ho! heave ye ho!

Through the straits OF MOY Ealta we go!


He got out the sloop that he’d built in the yard

And went looking for a crew ‘cos he was half jared

He stood at the helm of his brave little boat

Picking up survivors too tired to float


“Heave now me hearties!” Charlie he cried

Clutching the sextant Maureen supplied

“We’ll heave-to at ‘Chetties and take on some stores

Fresh water and blankets we’ll head for the shore”


Consulting his charts wryly he smiled

“From here to the Tavern’s two nautical miles”

Then at St. Joseph’s they rounded the Horn

And lit a few candles for a sailor’s return


On the embankment had gathered a crowd

Sharing provisions and singing out loud

They all cheered Charlie and his sea-faring sense

For charging his passengers in shillings and pence