Folkestone Trawlers

On the beach they still sell postcards and faded photographs
Like a cruel wedding picture crowning an epitaph
They’ve switched off the channel since they built the tunnel
There’s wind on the water
The waves pound and roar
There are more mouths to feed now than ever before
Gone are the days of the sail and the oar
The trawlers are rotting on the shore
The trawlers of Folkestone
They took it underground
Our ferries all went down
The tourist bubble burst
With foreign fish at Tesco half price, every little hurts
Now our only goal is to stay on the dole