Poem By Alan Dunne
The falling sun spreads light upon
These hands that time has torn
Deepened lines, from nets entwined,
Have left the skin all worn.
Beneath the cap that warms in the early dawn
Escapes that salt-spoiled hair,
An Mhaighdean Mhara is quietly sung
In the open western air.
Two saved mackerel in a tartan satchel
A reward that ends the day
While shades of tomorrow from today will be borrowed
He smiles in the light of May.
An Mhaighdean Mhara - The Mermaid (Irish)