The Mayo man and his bucket
Daily he toils, the Mayo man and his bucket,
Rehoming the pebbles as he patiently waits.
Daily he fetches, the Mayo man and his bucket,
The neptunian grasses as the hours slowly past.
Daily he wanders, the Mayo man and his bucket,
Up and down the shoreline, passing the day.
Daily he presses, the Mayo man and his bucket,
The stones on the track, he’s slowly unfolding.
Daily he cements, the Mayo man and his bucket,
The seaweed through stone, to perfect his path.
Daily he undo’s, the Mayo man and his bucket,
The damage of storms, that this way hath torn.
Daily he works, the Mayo man and his bucket,
As all of the beachgoers, stroll in oblivion.
Daily he perfects, the Mayo man and his bucket,
The trail ‘neath their feet, without ever a word.
Warrior Princess
