The Scourge Of The North Sea Poem by sylvia spencer

There is factual story that is over fifty years old;
but no poetry has ever been written and none has been told,
about a catastrophic flood that shed tears and even blood.
On the Saturday ending January, in ninteen fifty three.
Freak winds drove a storm surge all down the North Sea.
It smashed along the coastline and ruined the defence
and all that was visable was a huge salt water trench;
and yet the worse was to come, you could not visualise the
damage it had done.The East Coast was now totally under
water and it was just like lambs being led to the slaughter.
The County of Essex had a place called Canvey Island.
The flood came, but in it's wake it left only the sand;
It once had a lighthouse and that went too, right to the
bottom of the ocean blue.One little Island was an underwater
grave where fifty eight people died who no one could save
With a population of eleven thousand that had to be evacuated.
Their homes had gone and people were cold and saturated.
The great flood of fifty three, the scourge of the North Sea.
It came and it went with great intent; the land was ruined
no crops would grow. Three years it stood idol a long wait
too sow.The damage was high and many people ask why;
how three hundred and seven people died and many more cried.
The East Coast floods the scurge of the North Sea.
January 31st in the year of our Lord 1953
A peacetime disaster could it ever happen again
and we will still be looking for someone to blame.


I live near the North Sea Coast, it is very pretty in the summer
but the winter is a different story.
On the 1st February 2003 the East Coast held a 50th Anniversary.