A song between two worlds
“Wandering between two worlds.”
Two lights on the horizon, two currents pulling at once.
Like the Flying Dutchman between shores — hardly arrived before the other harbour calls. Miles turn into waves, time into open sea.
Perhaps that is the true unrest: not being without a home, but being called by two harbours.
“Twa harbours call frae either side.”
The line carries the whole song: two harbours, two worlds, two pulls — and the endless, stormy crossing in between.
Robert Burns-inspired Scots shanty
Hooo, lads, master the tide, twa harbours call frae either side. (either side...)
Hooo... haud... Let the cauld wind blaw. (cauld wind blaw...)
Roll on, night train, carry us hame, to the harbour that kens our name. (kens our name...)
Carry us hame... carry us hame... (hame...)
Like the Dutchman through the mist we roam, never all gane, never all home. (never all home...) Wanderers atween the worlds we stand, twa tides pulling at either hand.
Haud the line... haud the line... (haud the line...) Through the storm, keep her fine.
Friday burns like a lighthouse flame, calling us hameward by our name. Every mile is a wave we cross, counting the hours, never the cost.
Harbour light... harbour light... Storm ahind and hame in sight. (hame in sight...)
The foreign quay, sae cauld and wide, turned to a hame on the other side. (other side...) And every friend we found out there made the lang road worth the wear.
Twa harbours call, and still we ride, with thunder rolling at our side. Till the last fierce wave is beaten into foam, we sail, we fight, we make it home. (hame... oh hame...)
Hooo, lads, again we crossed the tide, made it hame to the other side. (other side...) But beyond the moonlit foam, the other harbour calls us home. (calls us home...) (home...)