To Those Bell Bottomed Boys

Are there ghosts on Hessle Road Do the bell bottomed boys Slide quietly into Rayners For the pint, the craic, the noise. Do their pockets still jingle Until, having spent it all It's again through the Bullnose To pursue the ghostly trawl. Do they wander through estates Where terraces used to stand A self contained little village That bordered on dockland. Do ghostly clogs clack and echo As a gang of bobbers meets To wander to the Fish Dock Through the old ghostly streets. Is there still a St Andrews Where bobbers do their bit Hand balling a slippery catch Kit by kit by kit by heavy kit. Do Big Lil and her Revolutionaries Stand in lines by the dock Checking on a vessel's safety Before it slips through the lock. Does the Lord Line Building Once a building of pride Again survey the scene From St Andrews Dock side. As I stand among the remnants Of a weeded and silted Dock Looking at what's left of That once so busy old tidal lock In my mind I hear rattling chains As they ready the trawl To prepare for sea once more To chase the silvery haul. I can go take a pint at Rayners See history lined on the wall Raise a glass to the Bell Bottomed Boys who lived and died for the trawl. 3 days between trips, spending more than 300 days a year at sea, famous for their brightly coloured bell bottomed suits, and their ashore celebrations, known as 3 day millionaires, now just a memory in our City. The Fish Dock now a shopping park, the dock filled in, and haunted by an air of decay and depression, the once proud companies offices sliding daily nearer collapse Just a small memorial to the lost stands on the Bullnose, which they passed on the way out into the river and onwards to Icelandic fishing grounds, danger and, too many times, death.