The Light House
Dreaming, drumming down
the old draft port,
Drumming, dreaming, which way the draft a pullin?
A wind this way that, looking for the port o'call,
Wonder where's the Light?
Home away from there,
Adrift, a port, away alost.
Which way what I wonder
where to go,
The port o'calling.
If I knew where was what -- that I could go
Which way what was the port adrifting.
Looking for the turnaround,
Adrift, alost, where is the winds to pull us home?
The fog settles upon
Looking through the milk white puffs a'chillin'.
There's a tug cutting
into the nighted fog.
There's a light dimmed behind the misted dew,
rippling circles upon a sea.
Avas, the whales wait
upon our call to while away their song.
Their voice crying deep -
Within the black icied surface
From nowhere from beneath.
A breaking forth, a black
Niagara surging from the depth.
It emerges past our drifting lost long sight,
Passing fragments, sink back into the darkened sea.
Once again all is still,
a tremor passing past
Sends feather chills down the spine.
A call I wish to hear,
Whistling thru the see.