| Flannan Isle lies in the South by the Point of Kedgeree
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| Forty-seven miles from land in the roughest part of the sea
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| On the finest day the sea is black
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| They say no one has ever come back from there
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| They say the wicked spirits haunt the lighthouse in the night
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| Fierce ghosts of many men who tried to stop the warning light
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| Waves are hurled against the ugly rocks
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| Spray is changed at once to a wall of ice
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| Bird who wants to rest its tired wings
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| Lands, and it is turned to a of stone
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| The island’s rocks have many caves that smell of dying flesh
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| They lure the strangers to their maze of never ending length
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| The empty cave is filled with sound
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| in the ground below
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| Each month a boat is sucked to perish by the rocky isle
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| Each time the moon is full the currents are directed there
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| Boats that sail too near to Flannan Isle
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| Feel the weather change and they turn away
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| If they dare to look behind them, still
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| Screams of disappointment fill the air |