by Gene P Reed
Wednesday, August 21, 2002
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Anchored on the seashore sand,
It stands against the sky so grand,
Its light is cast across the strand,
Guided by its keeper's hand.
Two hundred years ago today,
It was built here on the bay,
To provide a guiding light,
Through natures storms and the night.
For all the ships both small and large,
From one man dinghy, to longest barge,
Hoping to pass through the strand,
Guided by their captain's hand.
Fifty years ago today,
A mighty storm came this way,
For one long and hellish night,
Across the strand there was no light.
A twist of fate, or Gods will,
The keeper's heart, it stood still,
At sunset on that stormy night,
My dad died; there was no light.
Without a light to show the way,
A mighty ship went astray,
In the darkness all around,
The ship and crew ran aground.
Timbers snapped like tooth picks, Into the sea went forty six,
And while on land the people slept, Forty-five the ocean kept.
To all that listen I tell this tale, Of that night and it's deadly gale,
And by now I'm sure you see, that number forty-six was me.
For fifty years now I have cried, For all of them that night that died,
Ever since that fateful night, I've been the keeper of the light.
So if you sail the strand by day, stop and take a moment to pray,
That should you sail the strand by night, You will see the lighthouse light.