Sammy's Point By Brian Hodgins

On the north bank of the Humber, At a place called Sammy's Point, The breakers torch began to burn, What had made this city great? The finest ships that ever sailed, Manned by the finest men, They knew no fear, tho' death was near, With every breaking sea, To reap the silver harvest, The harvest of the sea From Boxmen to Stern-Draggers, A century or more, From Iceland to Bear Island, And far in Barents Sea, From Dogger Bank and North Cape, And off Norwegian coast, 'We sail the finest ships me lads', Of that the 'Yorkies' boast. But now, they have all gone, Just to live in memory, But they will never die, my friend, To the likes of you and me. So raise your glass with me my friend, We'll drink a silent toast, To the men and ships that lie there, Off Iceland's rugged coast. Then we'll raise another glass my friend, For their memory to anoint, Here's to the memory of the ships, my friend, That died on Sammy's point.

Copyright © Brian Hodgins 2011

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