Written during the late 1980's when emigration was destroying Ireland
The Ferry
1
The Ferry is gone, the tide is high,
with its cargo of emigrants,
bound for the other side.
With a fear of God they go alone
to a foreign land,
to the unknown.
To a land of promises,
to a land of pain.
maybe to find a job,
and work to save,
or maybe through despair and drink,
an early grave
Everyday I see them go,
embarking on that 'Silver Ghost',
walking up the gangway,
their heads hung low,
as they leave their families,
as they leave their homes.
And as I stand there alone,
I long to cry.
Why are the Politicians
letting this country die!
The shame I feel is hard to hide
I glance once more to sea
and turn aside,
And as I walk away from the pier
I hear the Ferry’s horn sounding clear
as into the night she disappears
