Stranger on the Shore

Two miles from Britain, cries skipper on board,
Expecting the pilot, he turns to port,
And nears the gates where the Tyne awaits,
In tidal flow, on southeastern crown,
Black Middens below, where many did drown.
A cormorant dives in fog filled bay,
And pier’s white light guides ships away.
At Longshank’s Sands, waves clang on the cliffs,
Great vessels delay and waters drift,
Stone-aged by gales and thousand year tales,
Of longboats, troop ships and the plans of powers,
All can be seen where Collingwood towers,
By a stranger on shore stood watching the view,
Who had been here before but nobody knew.