To the Lost Trawlermen of Hull
O' if you could see the Devil's grin, would you trespass on his mortal sea?
Thy is no sanctuary to those perils, bound phlegmatic men;
whose hands labour in enemy boundaries.
O' trawler men, who art thou unite in brethren, fight incoming battles; torrential weather.
Many address the danger, huddled together; trying to keep warm
but we know death is no friend and is always hungry for more.
Waves heighten in the gale; surfacing the boat.
Many men lost, washed aboard, no-one can hear your painful calls.
O' trawler men, who risked their lives, we will never forget
thou' sadness remains daily: wives, sons, daughters, the ones left behind;
etched in their heart, handkerchiefs waved in the hands of love
sailing, never knowing the devil was awake and ready.