Picture above: The Captain Hobson.
A Lincolnshire lass was she in youth and bloom revealing, and upon us all God smiled when unto this world a child was born and bred in Healing Red flower of the Midlands - O’ English Rose sweet and fairest! Who heard the sirens roar when fell the bombs of war on village row and terrace Where old port fishing boats off the North Sea tied dockside, and there their catch unload where the mighty Humber flowed as they came in on the tide She met her Ted a likely lad from the seaside town of Grimsby. Unto a rose a prickly thorn whose love to she was sworn and wed the twain would be And so it was it came to pass a great debt of love was owed. Dreaming of a foreign shore in old England’s cold bitten door from her house on Oak Road Unto an isle beyond her own in a far land and Bay of Plenty - to sail a ship from Glasgow and off starboard bow long ago wave farewell to old Blighty Away the colonies away on berth and passage of ten pound. Leaving her home by the sea and the life she knew in Grimsby on the Captain Hobson bound Ocean to ocean voyage long the bow waves did pitch and toss. By day their slow time biding and by night the ancient guiding lights of the Southern Cross Soon a year passed and nigh that Midland girl a mother to be. Once again in a seaside town dressed in a maternity gown across the world in Opotiki But the Firth she calls home and there in time raised a family, and I remember to this day her gentle and motherly way to me and to all, dear Audrey Written: December 2017
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