Seaton Carew Poem by Bob Gibson

I used to go to Seaton Carew and watch the wild North sea
The crashing of the waves, brings it all home to me
Some men go sea-coaling further up the beach
Filling sacks with sea coal , as far as they can reach

The sacks put across the handlebars, as the wheels dig in the sand
Snow may lay on the rooftop, but the fire grate was grand
As i walk along the sea front, the salt would burn my face
The northeast wind would cut me in half, but the cold i did embrace

A deserted beach in winter, I'd walk at waters edge
I'd see the big ships anchored, waiting for the dredge
An oil rig in the distance, towed by Crosthwaite's tug
Constructed in the Greythorpe yard, I can hear the engine chug

Here among the sand dune's, on to Seaton Snooks
The tank traps are still standing, weather worn in looks
My mate had a houseboat there, a bit further down the way
The (Cranch) it was called, but its not there today.

Industry has taken over, a power station built
Churning out the megawatts, and uranium to the hilt
Lets get back to Seaton! when i was a boy
Mad Max's magic toy shop for me it was a joy

The big dipper and the waltzes' and all the show ground fun
I can still smell the dodgems, on rubber wheels they'd run
It's all gone now, just a figment of the past
The good times are in my memory, however long i last