OLD SEA DOG

The skiffs are on their moorings
The seagulls on the wing
The cormorants starch as statues
The foreboding church bell rings.
Old men stand on the corner
Old women by the gate
Old priest waits at the doorway
Old Sea Dog don’t be late.
He’s coming past the Bottle House
He’s motoring in style
He’s at the head of a mighty crowd
He’s within a quarter mile.
We halt the hearse and ease him out
We hoist him shoulder high
We carry him over his beloved bridge
We share his load with pride.
At last he’s docked by the altar side
At last he’s freed from sin
At last he ships for his final trip
At last his boat’s come in.

By Kevin Thompson
15 August 1999

This poem was written for ‘King’ Billy Murphy’s funeral. ‘The King’ who was a deep sea docker all his life officiated over events in Ringsend Regatta days for many years.

The tradition of skiff racing evolved from the days of sail when dockers used to row light open boats out into Dublin bay to meet the schooners or clippers on their way into port. The first boats to get their grappling hooks and lines aboard the traders were afforded a free tow into the docks and secured the right to work the vessel.

Likewise the right to be carried over the ‘Brudge’ is a traditional ritual afforded to all deceased citizens of Ringsend and Irishtown to this day.