The locals call the Bay ‘Cockle Klondike’
It’s a dangerous place for all and sundry alike.

Renowned for many miles of shifting sand
And encircling tides that trap and strand.

Illegal Chinese immigrants in bare feet
Rake and dig the sands their needs to meet.

Prisoners of their Gang Master’s greed
Slave labour endure, themselves to feed.

Hours of backbreaking work each day
For a pittance that could not be called decent pay.

The Gang Masters pay £1.50 for each bag filled
No doubt they’d say the workers are unskilled.

They have no conscience about their workers at all
They sell each bag for £500.00 and have a ball.

Yesterday tragedy struck on a sandbank
Encircling, rising tides crept round to outflank.

The Cockle harvesters were too far from land
For hours trapped on this cold, wet sand

They waited but the alarm was raised too late
Darkness hampered rescue and sealed their fate.

The rising tide carried some away
To drown in the cold waters of Morecambe Bay.

Fourteen were rescued and survived
Nineteen bodies recovered of those who died.

To Hell with the Gang Masters and their evil trade
At their doors must the blame for illegal deaths be laid.