Poetry

The Ebb of The Tide

By 9th October 2013December 9th, 2019No Comments

On Castle Hill, the Romans kept watch
Boasted of conquests, and battles once fought
Worshipping their gods at their altars of stone
Knowing in their hearts they would never go home.
The family’s fortune would rise and would fall
The Senhouses’ bed was lowered from the hall.
Netherhall would topple, like the rocks on the cliff
And who would believe it would all come to this?
While they slept content in their fine-feathered bed
What of their slaves, of the cruel lives they led?
Of the blood, and the sweat, the tears they once shed?
When all that they were had crumbled and gone
Only the name, Mary, would for ever live on…
Poor Penny Farthing, unknown in his grave
A young man who died with a heart truly brave
What were your dreams, and whom did you love
And what was the name you were given at birth?
Though into the maelstrom of life we are cast
Our days of sturt and strife would soon pass.
The mother, who prayed, that it couldn’t be true
The telegram lied when it said it was you…
That they lived, that they loved, that they
laughed and they cried, that they drifted away
on the ebb of the tide.
And what of today –enough of the past
The dog in the yard for its master still barks.
The man who makes crockery fit for a queen
Who gambled his all on a hope and a dream.
The Catch has landed at the Old Elizabeth Docks.
The clamour of gulls in their raucous white flocks.
Like the sands of the Solway, the wind on the grass
The seasons will come and the seasons will pass.
Maryport’s wealth for ever would be
In the hearts of its people, the lure of the sea.
Master mariners strolling with a self-possessed air
The barques, the coasters, the wind in the hair.
The ships in the harbour, the storms and the swell
In the lore, and the stories, the old men would tell.

Robert Carson

Author Robert Carson

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