The following poem was inspired by a correspondence about trying to find the words and music to an old Music Hall song of the same title. The only item found was a monologue by Billy Bennett (Circa 1922), not the song I was looking for. However, it set my mind to cranking out the following extraneous rhyme.

THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER

I am a Lighthouse Keeper,
And I sit out here alone.
On an island strewn with rocks,
And a lighthouse made of stone.

I count the seagulls passing by,
They come here every day.
They always make a lot of noise,
But don’t have much to say.

I light the light, and tend the wick,
And think a lot of thoughts.
I envy all those sailers,
When they visit all those ports.

They’re having fun and singing songs,
Until they’re off to sea.
They’re with good friends and company,
It’s not the life for me.

There’s not a lot of things in life,
That I would rather be,
Than just a lighthouse keeper,
Out here beside the sea.

I think on all the lives I’ve spared,
By shining out my light.
There’s many would’ve come to grief,
Upon a stormy night.

So do not morn for me, my friend,
And do not think I’m sad.
I’m happy in the job I do -
It’s really not so bad.

I’ll stay a lighthouse keeper,
And sit out here all alone.
On my island strewn with rocks,
And my lighthouse made of stone.