Friday, January 10, 2014

The Shipping Forecast

Dance me through the Faeroes,
a softly spoken Wight,
of Cromarty and Humber
seafarers of the night;
Stand me at Trafalgar, or
throw a Fastnet wide,
and fill my head with visions of
the lulling Malin tide;
Through Dogger, Fisher, Hebrides,
occasionally poor,
becoming cyclonic later -
variable four;
Swim me past the Fitzroy,
the Bailey, and the Sole,
showers veering northwest -
showers at Rockall;
Shannon, Forties, Fair Isle,
and southwest six to gale,
I am with the ocean,
on this spoken weather scale;
Finally, to German Bight,
west or southwest five,
the night no more a quiet place:
the sea always alive.

2 comments:

Kay-Anne Sheen said...

I love this Ray. I'd love to hear it spoken. Any chance you can read it at the Playwriting Festival?

Ray Morgan said...

Of course! I would be honoured!