On Morecambe Bay

Out beyond the street lamps where the calliopes roar

Past the rack and samphire, beyond the shore

I've seen them walking through the tide as rain cuts through the spray

Chinese cockle-pickers on the sands of Morecambe Bay

I stood behind them in the corner shop and in the market too

I should have spoken to them, told them everything I knew

Like our mothers told us as we went out to play

Never try and race the tide on the sands of Morecambe Bay

For the tide is The Devil, it will run you out of breath

Race you to the seashore, chase you to your death

The tide is the very Devil and the Devil has its day

On the lonely cockle banks of Morecambe Bay

Saw them sending money orders home, all their hard earned pay

Tales of crossing borders on the road to Morecambe Bay

Sleeping in crowded rooms on cold hard floors

Such dreamless life is not worth dying for

I see them in the distance, laid out in the morning light

23 migrant workers were drowned last night

Their final phonecalls halfway round the world crossed

As between the river estuaries they raced the tide and lost

For the tide is The Devil, it will run you our of breath

Race you to the seashore, chase you to your death

The tides is the very Devil and The Devil has its day

On the lonely cockle banks of Morecambe Bay

In Fujian and Zeeland they mourn their next of kin

Gang masters with snake tattoos call money loans back in

Broked hearted parents watch their children stow away

To the lonely cockle banks of Morecambe Bay

The tide is the very Devil and The Devil has its day

On the lonely cockle banks of Morecambe Bay