R.I.P Shane MacGowan (31)

The Dunes, written by Shane MacGowan, he really was an extraordinary poet.

I walked today on the cold grey shore
where I watched when I was much younger
while they built the dunes upon the sand
for the dead from the Great Hunger
for the dead from the Great Hunger.
Although I was a doctor's son
I gazed in fear and wonder
as they perished from the raging plague
that came in from the Great Hunger
that came in from the Great Hunger.

When I watched at the age of four
in Eighteen Forty Seven
the mounds they built upon the shore.
They seemed to point to heaven
they seemed to point to heaven.

But the wind and the rain they have worked away.
Now the dunes are uneven
and the children kick the sand around
and the bones they are revealed then
and the bones they are revealed then.

My brothers and sisters died.
My mother only four and twenty
and I alone survived to see
the potatoes grow in plenty
the potatoes grow in plenty.
They stole our grain as we died in pain
to put upon their tables.
The dying covered the dead with sand
and danced while they were able
and danced while they were able.

While the fiddler played we drank poitin
and ate the last of the berries.
Then knelt and said the rosary
round the mounds of dead we'd buried
round the mounds of dead we'd buried.
I saw dark shadows rise up from the sand
and dance all around the dunes
and they danced the rattling dance of the dead
to a set of mournful tunes
to a set of mournful tunes.
A crack of lightening split the sky.
The rain on the dunes it poured.
I left them lying where I shot them down
the bailiff and the landlord.
Then I went for a drink in Westport.

I walked today on the cold grey shore
where I watched when I was much younger
while they built the dunes upon the sand
for the dead from the Great Hunger
for the dead from the Great Hunger

Shane macGowan

... The Parting Glass