Almost mid-way betwixt
Scarborough and Bridlington,
being a nose of cliff thrust out into the sea
to form a horn of Filey Bay.
Here, there, are sands
i n o n e v a s t g l o r i o u s e x p a n s e,
from the Brigg to the Bempton Cliffs –
six miles of them all round the bay,
so spacious that there could never be
(From Every Woman’s Enquire Within: A Complete Library and Household Knowledge for all Home-Loving Women, 1939. Submitted by H L Foster)
It went up one day. Gunpowder, TNT,
a shoe-lace, a ring, a spark.
Condemned the cornfields round about,
still bringing bodies out after a fortnight.
You don’t mind when you’re young –
you sing away as if nothing had happened.
(From Audio Memories of a WW1 Munitions Factory Explosion. Submitted by H L Foster)
We may come to the
sands through pathways cut in the
cliff, and the tide leaves
on these priceless shores
long lagoons which are
the delight of children’s hearts.
(From Every Woman’s Enquire Within: A Complete Library and Household Knowledge for all Home-Loving Women, 1930s. Submitted by H L Foster)