The Old Ways

The thundering sea is calling me home, home to you.
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.

On a dark new year's night
On the west coast of Clare,
I heard your voice singing.
Your eyes danced the song,
Your hands played the tune.
T'was a vision before me.

We left the music behind
And the dance carried on
As we stole away 
To the seashore.

And smelt the brine, 
Felt the wind in our hair.
With sadness, 
You paused.

Suddenly I knew that you'd have to go;
Your world was not mine, your eyes told me so.
Yet it was there I felt the crossroads of time,
And I wondered why.


As we cast our gaze on the tumbling sea,
A vision came o'er me....
Of thundering hooves and beating wings
In clouds above.

Turning to go I heard you call my name
Like a bird in a cage, spreading its wings to fly.
"The old ways are lost," you sang as you flew,
And I wondered why.

The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.
The thundering waves are calling me home, home to you
The pounding sea is calling me home, home to you.


Appropriate for the waning year (remembrance of the past), and 
general inspiration.