She hailed from the port of Belfast;
The Night Ferry of the Sterna line.
She was not fast like the modern boats today,
In truth, her best days were behind her.

The Irish sea was rough and unforgiving
And the smell of diesel oil was ever present.
We were headed out to Cairnyan,
with Edinburgh our final destination.

First, we had to weather out the storm;
the worst in memory per my childish imagination.
My parents both stayed calm; they betrayed no sense of fear.
They lent me the courage I did not possess.

My seasick pills helped too,
Or I would have lost my dinner in that gale.
Finally, the ferry slipped into her berth
and was ******* to the dock.

It is a distant memory and, as such,
Half real and half imagined.