Cutty Sark

Cutty Sark

Fires ablaze on Dumbarton shores,
‘Well done, Cutty Sark,’ Tom O’Shanter calls.
As the sails strike out, she clips the seas, racing Thermopylae
With winds of speed for leaves of tea;
Changing cargo and crew in the years she flies,
Embracing the tides, turning her stern from steam;
Losing Nannie to Ferreira.
Now she fights the seas, scraping her bow,
Playing to the whim of political tide
Knowing a day her birthright will be seen.
Her destiny to teach on wave
And shore for centuries more.