Dry and dusty the old man lay
Had not moved a vessel for many a day
Slept below the moonlight stars
Thought of his weath and fading power
Drifting, drifting the old man saw
Far beyond the cliffs and golden shore
Had crossed the marker made for man
Slowly he felt the dying man's hand
Deeper, deeper into silent sleep
The water green, the water deep
And then from the ocean he heard a call
A voice rang out from distant shores
There in his softly swaying boat
Was lifted, feet first, by a riddled rope
Laid in comfort in a cabin bed
Fed and watered, bandaged head
Nearer and nearer the headland crept
Restored this dry and dusty vet
To this world again and whole .
Grateful he was this poor old soul.


Love Mary **