Ardnamurchan, Loch Indaal, Rattray Head The Isle of May Not an eye to watch the sea from Eileann Glas or Copinsay Still they guard the shore. Fair Isle North and Skerryvore The empty room, the untrod stairway The only sound, the roaring sea The tables and the chairs wait still for one last supper As the mist closes in unseen Proud men they were who manned the beacon, A sense of worth was in their mind Maybe they're on shore now, aye, but still on look-out As the doors rattle in an unsensed wind. And still at night, I hear the fog horn sweep across the seas, I wonder if old lighthouse keepers hear it And remember nights like these... Hard lives they had, and near to danger Long lonely months they'd have their fill Ah but if I were some storm bound sailor, I'd wish the keepers were watching still