I trim the wick at three am
The lens sweeps slow across the bay
No storm clouds gather on the rim
Just thunder where the batteries lay
Beacon and barrage hold the line
Beacon and barrage mark the time
Iron rain falls on the wire
Mud swallows what the fuses fire
Beacon and barrage hold the line
Salt crusts the glass of the lantern room
I plot the azimuths on the chart
A star shell blooms above the gloom
And outlines every shattered part
The keepers log stays blank this year
No ships to wreck on hidden stone
Only the crump and whistle near
Where rows of unknown soldiers groan
Beacon and barrage hold the line
Beacon and barrage mark the time
Iron rain falls on the wire
Mud swallows what the fuses fire
Beacon and barrage hold the line
Brass rangefinder cold in my hand
Salt wind tears at the signal flag
I watch the dark earth turn to sand
Each flash a dot upon the map
A helmet rests in crater clay
No plume, no badge, just rusted steel
The beam passes, turns away
The light must turn, the wheel must wheel
Beacon and barrage hold the line
Beacon and barrage mark the time
Iron rain falls on the wire
Mud swallows what the fuses fire
Beacon and barrage hold the line
Light turns slow across the grey
Night turns low on firing day
