AtLast_[07]

White martyrs cast by night, Thump, thump, Thump, thump, Past, untoward, the Fastnet light.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Into their own darkness.

Voice from crusted shell retells Of bodies thrust upon those swells Entrusted witness, Manx, appealed Of heaven's purpose, Unrevealed For the withered, weathered, Kneaded numb, With dithered voices broken dumb, Awash on creaky ships, No songs of ages On their lips,

Cultured in violence, Birthplace of silence.

From pitch obscure of friendless time Culled of children flown these banks, Sounds the bay for mine and thine,

Behold And heed the Manx !