Lament For The Red Falcon (Ron Baxter)

You highlands and you islands
O why won't you say
That you saw my own Red Falcon
A'passing by your way?
For she was a'flying homeward,
Her young ones for to fill;
When in your cruel Minches
My Red Falcon you did kill.

O long will her young ones 
From the shore go looking forth;
Ere they see my own Red Falcon,
Come flying from the North.

Oh you saw her and you heard her, 
As she cried out as she died;
But you wouldn't even tell me
Where her broken body lies.
You wouldn't even tell me 
Where she went beneath the waves;
So I can't cast my flowers
Upon Red Falcon's grave.

Performed as a poem in the show, read by Charles Penfold. 
I believe Ron had the tune for "The Bonny Earl of Moray" in mind when he wrote this.

Ross

Why Are You Crying, Mam?   (words: Ron Baxter/Tune: Lord Derwentwater's Farewell)

Why are you crying, Mam? That's a thing you never do.
I'll tell me Dad when he comes home, someone's been hurting you.
He's coming home for Christmas, he'll be here in an hour or two,
For Red Falcon will be landing in the morning.

He said he'd buy me a cowboy suit, and then on Boxing Day,
We'll take a tram to Bloomfield Road, to see Stan Matthews play;
Oh, please, Mam, do stop crying, for Dad's only hours away,
For Red Falcon will be landing in the morning

Why did the Mission man come round, with his face so sad and grim?
He's usually so cheerful, now what is wrong with him?
I'll have to ask my father in the morning when he's in,
For Red Falcon will be landing in the morning.

Mam! - Billy has just told me that she's lost with all her crew!
I told him he was lying, so I've run back home to you.
Oh, please Mam, please, Mam, tell me; tell me it isn't true,
And that Red Falcon will be landing in the morning.

His mother goes and embraces him, as they both share their pain;
She's lost her husband, him his Dad, all her comforts are in vain.
He's crying for his father, who he'll never see again,
For Red Falcon never landed in the morning.

Sung by Dick Gillingham

The story of the loss of the Red Falcon was always the most poignant part of "The Final Trawl" show. Even among the cast who had heard it many times before, Dick's rendition of this song never failed to draw an emotional response. 

I was ten years old when the tragedy occurred, and living in Scotland, but I can still remember the newspaper coverage that followed, and the appeals that brought responses from all round the country.

More information here:- http://www.lifeinfleetwood.co.uk/2008/02/06/red-falcon/ 

And here:- http://www.fleetwood-trawlers.info/index.php/2009/01/st-red-falcon-lo4/ 

Ross

Deckie Learner  (Anon/Ron Baxter)

It was there 'neath the Bear Island Island
Where most of the fishing was done.
It was there that a poor deckie learner
Lay down and died under the sun.

They were twenty-one days out of Fleetwood
When the gilsun it gave such a crack;
The rope it did break and the strands they flew out, 
And hit that poor lad 'cross the back.

O they lifted his head from the pound-boards,
With the blood from his wounds running red;
They lifted his head to the Skipper,
And these were the last words he said.

"Don't bury me out on the ocean,
Don't bury me out on the sea;
Just take me on ice back to Fleetwood
For all of me family to see".

"And when you get back to dear Fleetwood
And you're drinking your whisky and rum -
Remember the poor deckie learner
Who lay down and died under the sun."

So when they got back to dear Fleetwood
In "Deaduns" they all had a round.
They drank to that poor deckie learner
Who died on the Bear Island ground.

Yes when they got back home to Fleetwood, 
In "Deaduns" they all had a "crack".
They drank to that poor deckie learner
Who sailed out but never came back.

Sung by Mike Huntington.

Collected by Ron Baxter and Dick Gillingham from a fisherman (name unknown) in the Strawberry Gardens pub, Poulton Road, Fleetwood.

Vicki Lewis sang a song at the Moorbrook (Preston) session about a year ago which had very similar roots to this song. 

"I'll tell you a tale of Benghazi,
Where most of the fighting was done:
And where a poor British Tommy
Lay down and died under the sun."

She had the song from her father, who had heard it during WW2. There are equivalent songs featuring dying airmen, seamen and others, mostly with a similar structure. I thought I had added Vicki's song to the Benghazi thread, but it's not there and I can't find it in my files - possibly lost in my old laptop?

WINDY OLD WEATHER (Trad)

Then up gets the codfish with his great old head
He jumped on the foredeck to get a cast of lead.

Chorus:-
        Windy old weather, stormy old weather,
        When the wind blows, we'll all pull together.

Then up gets the gurnard with spines on his back;
He jumped on the poop deck to work on the jib deck.

Then up gets the herring the king of the sea;
He says to the Skipper, "Look out to your lee!"

Then up jumps the sprat he's the smallest of all,
He says to the Skipper, "Haul, haul the men's trawl."

Then up jumped the coley, as black as the coal,
He says, come on Skipper, "Ice me down below."

Sung by Dick Gillingham. Not sure where he got this version, it's different from the one in the DT (coll MacColl) and from Bob Robert's (Hapsborough Banks) version.

The Blue Flamingo                        
(Ron Baxter/Dick Gillingham)

Kicked out of the "Gas Tank"; banned from the "Bug",
Fleetwood Arms won't have him, nor any other pub;
Staggered down old Dock Street, one more place to go;
So I went into the place that's called the "Blue Flamingo!"

Chorus:-
        Watered beer and whisky; meths if that's your sup;        
        Fag-ash there it's two feet thick, it's never been swept up!
        VP Wine and Sandeman's, served by a bloke called Joe;
        He's the only sober fellow in the "Blue Flamingo!"

The atmosphere is lurid, with smoke and language too;
Some of the ladies' comments 'ud make your hair turn blue;
And if you try to speak to them, they tell you where to go!
(But that is not so bad a place as the "Blue Flamingo!")

Take a look at the women (if that's what they are!);
Tattoos on each hand and arm, and on their faces scars.
A mate of mine tried to pick one up, she gave him the old heave-ho -
She kicked him in the kneecaps in the "Blue Flamingo!"

All the fellas are ugly, always spoiling for a fight;
Not the sort you'd like to meet on a cold and rainy night!
They look at you, growl at you, their fists to you they show;
If my "DAD" don't get you, me "MAM" sure will,in the "Blue Flamingo!"

Sung by Dick Gillingham and Mike Huntington

The "Gas Tank" is the Gas Workers Club, one of many working men's clubs in the town which offered social and sporting opportunities, entertainment facilities and cheap drinking without the normal pub licensing restrictions. The difficulties of running such operations on a co-operative basis has meant that many have transferred to private hands. The "Bug" is the nickname of the "Prince Arthur" pub on Lord Sreet. Another trawlermen's pub which features in several of Ron Baxter's songs is the "Royal Oak" aka "Deadun's". The explanations of that particular alias are many and various. My friend John Warner of Sydney incorporated as many of these as I could remember for him into a song which I will try to track down and include later on. The "Fleetwood Arms" was known as "The First and Last" because of its proximity to the dock gates - after struggling along for the last few years, it finally closed its doors last year and is currently being converted for use as a dentist's practice and training centre. Many other favourite watering holes for trawlermen have disappeared over the years - the "Broadway", the "Cutty Sark", "Gullivers", the "Ship" and the "Victoria" - which claimed to be Fleetwood's oldest pub, although Ron insists in his sometimes role as pub quizmaster that the oldest licence was held by the Fleetwood Arms, transferred fom another Dock Street hostelry. The notorious "Blue Flamingo" club disappeared many years ago, but there are still a couple of places around that seem to be vying for its reputation!

"DAD" and "MAM" in the last line are the letters tattooed on the knuckles of the fists offered in the previous line.

When I moved to Fleetwood thirty years ago it was said that you could find a place to get a drink at almost any hour of the day or night. (Honest, that's not why I came here!)

Ross

Oh Mr Thompson                                        
(Ron Baxter)
Tune: Traditional

Please, Mr Thompson, Dad's home in the morn,
So mi Mam has sent me round to you, to get his suit from pawn;
She says she has no money, can you wait till he's back at sea?
And that if you want a pledge, instead of t'suit, keep me!

Please, Mr Thompson, here's mi Dad's gold watch;
Mi Mam was counting on mi Dad, but the fish he didn't catch.
The rent man he is coming, we're three weeks overdue;
Please, Mr Thompson, won't you give us a bob or two?

Please, Mr Thompson, can you help us out?
The housekeeping brass it is all gone, mi Mam's been on the stout;
The grocer and the coalman won't wait till next payday;
And if mi Dad finds out, well, there'll be hell to pay!

Please Mr Thompson, Dad's gone back to sea,
So Mam has sent his suit again, please give the brass to me;
He'll be back home in a fortnight, but the night before he's due in -
I'll be back with your brass, to get his suit for him.

Sung by Sue Bousfield

Fishermen's wives would get a weekly subvention (an advance on expected wages)from the trawler agents while their husbands were at sea. The pawnshop could also cover a gap in finances, but woe betide the wife if the best suit wasn't hanging up at home when the man of the house returned.

Ross

Silent Walkabout                                                
(Ron Baxter)
Tune: Traditional (Our Sarah's Geeten a Chap)

I signed off the "Broadway" - before I got the sack!
I told the ruddy Skipper I wasn't coming back.
Told him he was a bastard, a web-footed one as well -
An' before I'd sail wi' him again, I'd see him roast in hell.

Chorus:-
        Now it's "Any work today, Mister, 
        Any work today?
        Don't give us the 'walkabout' - 
        Any work today?"

Had a week or two ashore, till my money it had gone,
But when I went down for a ship, I found summat was wrong;
Found that I'd been given the "Silent Walkabout" -
No-one wanted to know me, they wouldn't hear me shout.

Went down to the Labour b'roo, to sign there, on the roll;
"Out of work? But you signed off! I'm sorry, but no dole!"
So I wandered down to Deaduns, to try and cadge a beer;
But the landlord turned and said to me, "Gerrout, no bumming here!"

After fourteen days of trying, then the word it went around;
My walkabout was over, and a berth for me was found - 
On a rotten old coal-burner, built in 19-God-knows-when,
So I picked up my "donkey's breakfast", and went trawling once again;

        No more "Any work today, Mister,
        Any work today?
        Don't give us the walkabout, 
        Any work today?"

Sung by Mike Huntington.

Fishermen could be punished for any manner of indiscretions by being banned from going to sea and thus prevented from earning a living for weeks on end. This was known as the "silent walkabout". If you fell out with one skipper, you fell out with them all!

Ross

Tell Me Skipper
(Collected Mike Waterson, tune "Bye Bye Blackbird")

Tell me, Skipper - is it true?
You can't get a crew to sail with you?
Bye-Bye, Skipper!
And tell me Skipper, is it right,
You can't get a crew to sail tonight?
Bye-Bye, Skipper!

Or is it 'cause, when we're on deck a'workin',
You're in between your blankets, bloody shirkin'?
Well, I'll pack my bag, pack my grip;
You won't see me back here next trip;
Skipper, Bye-Bye!

Sung by Mike Huntington 

During the 1950s conditions at sea as well as on shore continued to improve, but despite this, there was still friction between skippers and crewmen. Some skippers had such a reputation that they couldn't muster a crew, or if they did, the men signed off the log after just one trip.

Ross

Best Stuff I' Lancashire                                
(Dick Gillingham)

It's eight o'clock in't morning, clogs on the cobbles ring,
As from the trams and buses down the Sidings Road they cling;
They chatter in the morning mist, last night's stories they all tell,
And there are no girls in Fleetwood like the girls from B.S.L.

Chorus:-
        In a world of ice and boxes, cheerful those girls appear;
        In aprons and their clattering clogs, As they toil and sweat to clear
        Your Fleetwood fish from B.S.L.; "Best Stuff I'Lancashire".

The fish comes from the market, from the boxes ice does spill;
There's haddock, coley, whiting, there's cod and hake and brill;
There's flat-fish, plaice and roker, there's halibut and skate,
And dogfish, called "rock salmon" in London's Billingsgate.

Their knives they flash like lightning, heads and tails they separate;
There's skin and bone and fish'eads, for gulls waiting at the gate;
Prime fish cut into fillets, into boxes packed with ice,
And the phone is always ringing, merchants asking for a price.

Chorus & tune

And lunchtime now it's over, all the girls the boxes shift,
There's nailing lids and labelling, from the benches fish they lift;
There's lorry engines running, and auto trucks as well,
All waiting for the Fleetwood fish that comes from B.S.L.

And now the trucks are loaded and the train does hiss and sway,
And the guard he blows his whistle and the driver pulls away;
Over t'junction, past the Loco, and on its way to Crewe,
To Nottingham and Norwich, to Swindon, Bristol, Looe.

And afternoon it's over, factory floors to sweep and swill;
There's hoses flowing over, kits and boxes standing still,
At B.S.L., near Ash Street, full nine hours they have passed;
And Harry Brown's clog ladies they can say "Goodnight" at last.

Tune & Chorus

Sung by Sue Bousfield and Liz Gillingham to their tune. Lancashire and Cheshire Clog Dancing Champion Sue Bousfield performs the clog dance in the middle.

One of Fleetwood's many fish processing companies, Brown, Sinclair and Laugharne used the company's initials to create a unique selling slogan, "Best Stuff in Lancashire". Many of the ladies wore clogs to work.

Ross

Two O'Clock Artillery                                
(Ron Baxter)

Two o'clock each morning, hear the cobbles ring;
Clog irons sparking in the dark, hear the voices sing;
"Morning, Harry - Morning, Joe", as they go down to the quay,
Hear the streets re-echo to the "Two O'Clock Artillery".

Two o'clock artillery, off to the docks once more;
Go down to that damn fish-hold, lump that fish ashore;
Frozen fingers, frozen toes, up to your knees in ice,
Oh, to be back home again, in bed 'longside the wife.

Two o'clock artillery, stinking with the fish,
Getting in your gear and hair, and in your heart you wish -
That Vernon's Pools would come, and set you up for life;
Then you could spend each night, in bed, 'longside the wife.

Spoken in the show by Charles Penfold, a thumb-nail sketch of the lumper's life.

Ross