that bay you saw, or, the bay we all see

the hunted wilted ships
harbour hidden beneath those cliffs
you saw through reflection
atop the roaring Irish free waves
sent crashing in by battle guns
soaring through pirate skies
as a king fell silent,

Mutineers rose dancing & singing
ancestral songs of freedom and love
whilst swigging sweet rum
whilst smoking sweet hashish
letting their souls rise beyond
times wailing grasp,

topsy turvy was the call
in our bay of dreams.....
if not grasped today will still
be offered up from the free rolling seas
in tomorrows freedom