Midnight police cars are wailing unseen 
In dark and distant streets 
Schoolboys dream of the premiership 
In warm and crumpled sheets 

Fishermen’s alarm clocks tick towards dawn 
When the heaving tide will be high 
A photographer tarries on Rockanore beach 
Soon the sun will be singeing the sky 

Buyers bide time on the corner of the Square 
With cash for the things the man brings 
And resting before their dawn chorus begins 
Blackbirds sigh, heads under their wings 

At the duckshoot in the amusement arcade 
No finger hovers over the triggers  
On the pier, the merry-go-round stands still 
And the darkness before daylight lingers 

And all the while we hold out for someone  
Like an audience anticipating 
The imminent dimming of theatre lights 
We’re perfecting the quiet art of waiting 

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