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The Land Below the Waves ©

Martin Sweeny
Livingston, Scotland

Arriving at Oban the first thing you see, the Clansman ferry destination Tiree
This mighty vessel my escape from the rat race, cuts through black waters at a leisurely pace
Nothing behind us but a trail of white foam, and memories of loved ones we left at home
Oban gets smaller as it fades from our sight, in the wind and the cloud and the rain
On the port side majestic and proud, stands the family home of McLean
Castle Duart rises up from the shore, a fortress from days long ago
As if to guard the Sound of Mull, distinguishing friend from foe
Flanked by a lighthouse on the opposite shore, painted in brilliant white
Linsmore shines over The Sound, guiding the ships throughout the night
Passed Tobermory we are clear of The Sound and sailing on the high sea
A stop at Coll and we are on our way to the beautiful isle of Tiree
The captain announces arrival at Coll as passengers disembark
With new arrivals two by two, reminiscent of Noah’s ark
The car deck closed and the mooring ropes in, the Clansman is out once more
The next thing we see is a house painted pink that guides us into the shore
We land at Scarnish the sun splits the skies, and the sea turns to azure blue
Full of excitement we get off the boat, and head strait for the Lean To
With a warm welcome and an open fire we drank a few golden nips
We looked out the window across at the bay and gazed at all the old ships
This beautiful island like a picture post card never fails to amaze
This is the island of Tiree
The land below the waves

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