The Ghost of Finn McDonald

The lonely cliffs of Rockall stand tall against the sea,

And the only sound for miles is the crash of salty spree.

Across the windy moorlands, the children huddle round;

For the ghost of Finn McDonald walks the cliffs when the sun goes down.



It happened on a day like this, so many years ago;

When the orange sun in the western sky let out its dying glow.

A warrior walked the cliffs in the evening’s golden ray,

And visited the place where his fallen comrades lay.



Yet even a battle blade that had conquered many a foe,

Could not stave off the angry tides that crashed and swirled below.

The ancient cliffs soon crumbled beneath the stormy shoals,

Thus the warrior and his comrades found their rest where the breakers roll.



So every night when silence reigns, across the rocky shore;

The ghost of Finn McDonald walks the cliffs once more.