Granuaile

Albreda Ismeria

Granuaile
Copyright 1995 Mary Bertke

A cowering woman stood in the queen's
hall,
to plead for her kinfolk, she wore a grey
shawl.
Queen Elizabeth stared at the old
Granuaile,
and asked why to England she'd dared to
sail.

For the waves around Connaught
heave till the boat knocks
and they smash men and vessels to
death on the rocks.
The wave and wind of warfare are
what have made me,
and I'm cast adrift on them to
drown in the sea.

"I'm a poor widow woman, my life on the
rocks.
I've lived through the gale of disaster
and shocks.
Just spare my kin's lives and keep Bingham
from me –
I'll serve you well, queen, if you answer
my plea.

"For forty long years I've been tested and
tried,
my fortunes once rose, now they fall with
the tide.
I ask widow's portion, by England's rules,
my ships in your service will shine like
your jewels."

For the waves around Connaught
heave till the boat knocks
and they smash men and vessels to
death on the rocks.
The wave and wind of warfare are
what have made me,
and I'm cast adrift on them to
drown in the sea.

"No poor widow woman," Elizabeth cried,
"would sail up to Greenwich on dangerous
tide.
Marauder, and pirate, and captain you be.
When I view your petition that's all I
perceive.

"For forty long years you have roamed the
salt sea,
stolen gold from my captains, and through
them, from me.
A queen like myself, you are called as you
sail –
I'll give all you ask, and more – bold
Granuaile."

For the waves around Connaught
heave till the boat knocks
and they smash men and vessels to
death on the rocks.
The wave and wind of warfare are
what have made me . . .
I sail on the ocean, I live for
the sea.
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