Palmers Yard
From old Jarrow's many cobbled back lanes,
I'd gaze up in awe at the cantilever cranes.
Huge towering giants in Palmer's shipyard,
like Geordie sentries standing on guard.

Those titans aren't doing their duty no more,
the yard's locked, there's a chain on the door.
This deafening silence, can it all be for real,
remember the sound of hammers on steel?.

No flash from the welders striking their rods,
I can't hear the riveters, they were noisy sods.
No caulkers caring who's ear drum they burst,
alas building of ships is no longer rehearsed.

This wonderful life line, it is our River Tyne,
home to the yard that built ships of the line.
Tankers and warships have now gone to rust.
those wonderful skills have now bit the dust.

A proud man is Geordie, but he never boasts,
through cracks in the door I can see ghosts.
I think I must have a speck of dust in my eye,
I'll dry away the tears then I'll wave goodbye.
As someone who served my time with the first two years at Jarrow Palmers and completing it with three years at Hebburn I can see where you're coming from Freddie.
Now that after Thatcher and the following governments including Labour deciding there was no need for heavy Industry they are saying there's a dearth of skilled young men for our future prospects. It's enough to make you spit.

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