Call of the Sirens

The harbour rests from the rolling waves Of a windswept and tempestuous sea Beyond the breakwater lay sailors graves Where shipwrecks in eternal sleep rest free Once lured upon the rocks they didn’t see Now ghosts of sailors take their endless rest With sirens haunting cries, their bemoaning plea Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest Yachts now moored, as their owners misbehaves In dim lit cabins with lovers on their knee Pink gin’s at sunset and acting like knaves While jealous husbands spy hiding on the quay And lovers sit on their boats drinking Chablis Other yachts sit forlorn not looking their best Their days spent at sea, with the call of the siren’s banshee Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest Fishing boats chug past, their crew now waves At those waiting for their catch with impish glee On the quayside, fish, their customers now craves And the fee for their catch they readily agree Then having a meal completely buckshee The fishermen go home for a well-earned rest No more trawling, hearing sirens or wailing kelpie Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest Life in the harbour for some is all but carefree Yet for others it may not be so heaven blest As they sail troubled seas where sirens can be Heard in the wind and the waves foaming crest