Landscapes

Latimer/Hoover 
Listen now boys, 
my grandmother said - 
I'll tell you a story and 
then off to bed. 
There once was a time, 
we lived off the land. 
Harvest would come, 
and we all lent a hand 

But winds blew our lives, 
and scattered our seeds. 
Changing the landscape, 
from flowers to weeds. 
See in the graveyard 
the families gone. 
The grandest of tombstones 
carry them on... 

When you sail from the Harbour, 
It's your last eyes of Ireland. 

We tended the fire, 
and faeries appeased 
the flame never died 
until we had to leave. 
And when we were gone, 
the house tumbled down 
and covered our footprints, 
we'd left on the ground. 

When you sail from the Harbour, 
It's your last eyes of Ireland.

My eyes are now tired 
and no longer see. 
But visions of Ireland 
linger in me. 

So carry your past
in the rooms of your heart 
and you'll never he empty 
of love when you part 

When you sail from the Harbour, 
It's your last eyes of Ireland.