Old Gallipoli No fishing boats will trawl it, in respect they stay away Though the sea is lapping gently, on the beaches of the bay And the hills that overlook it, seem to cast their shadows deep And darken with their stillness where the quiet waters creep. The bracken covered gorges scour their way down to the sea And the broken crests and ridges stand in dark serenity The tide that washes gently, o’er the pebbles and the shells Uncovers rusting relics all around the Dardanelles. Like grim and watchful sentinels that forever seem to keep A guard upon the…