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”
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