The Crossing

A long time ago,
My grandfather left Ireland.
He traveled to London,
And then, to America.

It was time to leave his home
For a better home somewhere else.
Joining crowds of immigrants
In a melting pot abroad.

I should thank my grandfather
For deciding to leave Ireland.
If he had not made that choice,
I would be an Irish farmer today,
Except my parents would never have met.

Now, I retrace his route
On board the Norwegian Breakaway.
We sailed from London for New York.
Seven days at sea to the New World.

I don’t think he was in a mini-suite.
He may not have had 24-hour room service.
However, other than that,
We’re historically accurate.

Welcome to America, Grandpa.

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Author: Blind John Ellsworth

Blind John Ellsworth (1960- ), a (questionable) poet and sometimes Texas bluesman. He has recorded one spoken-word album (thankfully unreleased), since he is still trying to learn to play guitar. (Lack of musical skills is what makes him a poet and not a lyricist. Plus, he can’t write music.)

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