At about eight o’clock this morning Chris beckoned me to the window to look at some magnificent clouds, glowing as if on fire, out on the horizon of the sea; as I took photographs I noticed the man, perhaps finishing his night shift, on the sea wall.
And tonight, as I go to bed, another man in orange takes his station. I can’t help but admire those men working in all weather at all times of night and day.
“Oh Mary, this Sea Wall’s a wonderful sight
with the people at work here b’day and b’night
sure they don’t sow potatoes nor barley no more
but there’s gangs of ’em diggin’ for gold on the shore
at least when I asked them that’s what I was told
so I just took a hand at this diggin’ for gold
but for all that I found there I might as well be
where the Mountains o’ Mourne
sweep down to the sea.
With apologies to Percy French, composer of
“The Mountains Of Mourne” 1896