Lighthouse by Jane Ayers Sweat


The lighthouse ruled the lonely peak
Warning ships of danger
Yet in the foggy night
Came the cry of a stranger.

Her name was the Fiery Irish
Most beautiful ship on the seas
A jealous mistress from Dublin
Capturing sailor's hearts with ease.

The sailors bewared of her anger
None dared raise her ire at sea
But the sailor who crossed her that night
Would simply cease to be.

They whisper her name in pubs still
And ponder her link to the Fates
So many sailors have vanished
The lighthouse waits.


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