Poem by By Gladys Waite
A “yellow belly” I’m proud to be,
To live in a county next to the sea,
The folk who live here are hardy and bold,
For the Northeasters blow so bitterly cold.
When people tell me it’s dull and flat,
It makes me mad; it’s not like that,
For beauty all around I see,
The sunset skies, each flower, and tree.
Together we toiled in ‘fifty three’,
When the coast was invaded by a terrible sea,
So great was many peoples’ plight,
We never can forget that night.
Our county seems to be the tops
At growing really first class crops,
For quality farmers have quite a name,
But they all grumble just the same.
In spring the fields are green and fine,
Everything growing in a dead straight line,
Come May, tulips and daffs by the acre grow,
The Spalding parade is a marvellous show.
Potatoes grow in that rich dark soil,
In great demand, for chips, or to boil,
We’ve fat juicy sausage and tasty stuff chine,
Our local foods are really sublime.
Lincolnshire bred some famous men,
Smith Banks, Flinders and John Franklin.
They risked their lives and crossed the sea,
To bring back knowledge for you and me.
Tenyson’s poems worldwide are read,
An apple fell on Newton’s head,
Brave men drained the fens at tremendous cost,
And in that mud King John’s jewels were lost.
Of historical buildings we’ve quite a few,
Louth Church, Boston Stump, are just but two,
Lincoln Cathedral on a hill stands high,
Tattershal Castle, Crowland Abbey, gaunt to the sky.
Our animals, curly coat pigs produced lovely sweet pork,
Mighty shire horses did most of the work,
Long wool sheep, warm cardigans make,
And Lincoln Red cattle, you can’t beat for steak.
What a variety our county holds,
The rivers, the shore, the marsh, the wolds,
Out on a limb we seem to be,
But from serious violence we are free.
We’re really quite a happy lot,
Contented with the life we’ve got,
Living in peace twixt wold and sea,
Is there anywhere else you’d rather be?