<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=571143" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Saltburn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I used to watch the fishermen, go out from Saltburn sands<br>Their cobbles loaded up with nets and long lines in their hands<br>The lobster pots were up forard, with the markers and the picks<br>Going to the fishing grounds, they knew all the tricks <br> <br>They wore a woolen jersey and a yellow vinyl coat<br>A sow wester when it was raining, or a beanie in the boat<br>I used to watch them coming home, from the fishing bed<br>A wave pushing his beam, i loved my uncle Fred</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> <br>The cobbles they were sturdy boats overlapped you see<br>Corked with tar to seal them from the northern sea<br>I've seen them in the water when storms are about ter burst<br>Disappearing beneath a wave, it's what they fear the worst<br> <br>Up she comes with the spray, there oars are digging deep<br>Just longing for some dry clothes and someones arm's to sleep<br>I've seen them on the good days, . when a bountiful catch is landed<br>I heard them in the pub that night tall tales, They expanded</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I've seen their craggy faces, as they smoked their pipes<br>I've seen them playing dominoes an listened to their gripes<br>A braver bunch I've never met, apart from the miner<br>I take my hat off to fisherfolk, you make my England finer</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Bob+Gibson">Bob Gibson</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=571143" data-title="Saltburn de Bob Gibson" data-description="I used to watch the fishermen, go out from Saltburn sands Their cobbles loaded up with nets and long lines in their hands The lobster pots were up forard, with the markers and the picks Going to the fishing grounds, they knew all the tricks The..."></div> </div> </div>

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