@3High water@1, 9 @3A.M.@1 Not here the misty vapours and th' pall, Of fog, that bars our passage to the Quay. A clear blue sky holds brightly over all, Only the haze adds softness to the day. Idly, at single anchor do we lie, Swinging the tides, while lazy harbour smoke Drifts from our three tall funnels Why? . . . . Because they told us, with a bitter croak, "@3It's thick's a b-----y hedge at Rothesay Doak!@1" @3High water, 9:20 P.M.@1 A radiant moon stands in the eastern sky, The stars shine purely in th' lift o'er-head. The calm and moonlit anchorage is studded by Bright riding lights. Not here the dread Fog wraiths and vapours that would have us bound To slow and stop and fearfully to steer Past endless obstacles, perhaps a-ground. . . . . "@3Oh! Here@1," they said . . . "@3Mebbe it's fine an' clear, But, Goad! ye'll find it thick at Govan Pier!@1" |