Rooted to my land

a thousand years, aye,

more I’ve watched the strand

where men came to cry

their dreams to the gulls

above. Blood and tide

mingled free, whose pull

bade each man confide

mad, earthy thoughts. I

stopped and list. My trunk

grew black and gnarled by

every sin sung, ship sunk.

Now, lady bligh, from yonder curragh take

the axe, and end my thousandth song with “wake!”

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