On the Bromielaw Quay


November’s wind tonight is raw
And whips the Clyde to foam
I watch here on the Bromielaw Quay
The harvester’s go home

Oh! Luck is theirs, and blest are they
Who cross the sea of Moyle
To see again the dawning grey
The waters of the Foyle

To-morrow night on starlit ways
They’ll go to a loved door
And sit with kin by hearths ablaze
In Rosses or Gweedore

No welcome warm, no lighted pane
Now waits for me in the West
And sorrow keener than the rain
Lies heavy on my breast

Yet longings often draw me where
The boats for Ireland start
They take an unseen passenger
My homeless Irish heart

Like wild geese in their homing flight
These toilers homeward draw
And leave me lonely in the night
Upon the Bromielaw Quay


The Bromielaw Quay is in Glasgow, and it is there, many young men from Donegal found work in hard time.

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