Mackeral Landing
Jim O'Mulloy
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Take care near the Manacles, follow the Mackerel Silver arrows that speed through sea space Rise and fall of the rolling waters Ride the boat home to a safe landing place Go down to the coast on the old Moho ledge Where harbour wall stands at the Atlantic's edge Look up to a house at the top of the hill Lizard's high court ruled by Olivia and Phil Coverack Youth Hostel we're Coming back soon We phoned up Phil and he booked us a room Sweet little Emily will be there too Those Wardens of Cornwall are folk kind and true Life in the city can seem so surreal Even though we call it our home Millions of people milling about Each in a world of their own Victoria station floats in a closed space A walk in Green Park makes me feel out of place While under my feet lies the real rock and sea As clouds rise over the old West Country An inside out world is all I perceive A surface without foundation The Britannic heartland is where I want to be The bedrock of a nation Coverack Youth Hostel We're coming back Pack the car boot and load the roof rack Drive down the main road to the end of the track In London the landscape of Cornwall we lack At home on the window sill in the sun sits A pebble of serpentine stone Nearby on the wall hangs a picture that fits Its spirit in colour and form At Kynance Liz sat with that stone in her hand A heart of the Lizard in a vast reptile land And pondered the sense of the sea and the wind While beside her her children make ponds in the sand Apple green marbled red veins and grey seams Stony organs of feeling Shades of Victorian memorial dreams Soul of a magical being Coverack Youth Hostel we've Come back again On the headland we stand by Tre, Pol and Pen With the Chough on the cliff and the Heath at our feet Feel the fresh air, so salty and sweet Storm wreck from last winter lies quiet in the mist As seals play in pools far below White horses stand in the heather and gorse A mother protecting her foal Nearby is a house set in shelter alone Retreat for an artist, farm labourer's home We wish we might live like them in our own turn Sure dreams of the future will always return So trumpet Hewa for the great pilchard shoals Out in the shining waves Who lift their heads up right out of the sea And sing brave Coverack's praise So we fish em Can em and Toast em for tea Though I'd rather have mackerel Here at the hostel And never leave
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