East Yorkshire where two rivers meet
And ships stand by a city street
Where lassies walk in coppered clogs
On waterfronts where fishy fogs
Furl fitfully above the mud
One day I'll go back there for good
Tall dalesmen still tread furrow-high
The sailors' roll will never die
Until the Humber takes a turn
To run bone dry from Goole to Spurn
And in my father's house at dawn
Dear little house where I was born
I'll hear the creeper on the walls
Sigh in the wind
When evening falls
We'll spin long yarns which once were true
And I'll be home again with you
i loved this poem...but couldn't read more looking forward to read more of ur work nice poems and great place Yorkshire is i have a friend from there great view and nice place u got there...lucky ppl koni
I like your poem especially when read aloud. The rhymes are good. I give you 10!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A nostagic poem, beautifully written. Ron