A shanty / folk song about the Hastings Net Shops.
These tall, thin buildings have a long history, interwoven with the social and political history of the town.
Built to store and repair equipment used by the fishermen, the Net Shops have been standing since the early 1800's and have been at the centre of the sometimes fraught relationship between the working fishing port and Hastings' status as a tourist resort, serving to highlight the stark contrast between the Old and New towns.
The tourists come to gawp in their dandy hats and coats
See the calloused hands down a-working on the boats
The daily catch is taken for the fancy food in town
But the tide has been a rising and the price is going down
Giant’s holding fast against the weather and the rot
They’ve been watching on the beaches since a time we long forgot
The sand it shifts beneath their feet
The tide rolls out and in
And always at the shoreline in the morning
So heave on the ropes and haul up the net
They say a storm’s a coming but we ain’t dead yet
We'll roll with the thunder like a thousand time before
In the belly of a giant on the old shop floor
Now there’s many a gale that’s blown on through, and many a lugger damned
Many a saint abandoned for amusements on the Strand
Many an old salt sacrificed to make the way for change
But some may keep the old ways, and long they may remain
Giants looking weary as another day begins
Their clothes are looking ragged and the salt it stains their skin
The sand it shifts beneath their feet
The tide rolls out and in
And always at the shoreline in the morning
So heave on the ropes and haul up the net
They say a storm’s a coming but we ain’t dead yet
We'll roll with the thunder like a thousand time before
In the belly of a giant on the old shop floor
Here we stand in protest ‘gainst the widening of a smile
Seems that every inch we gives em, the council sells a mile
Ol' Bony was defeated but it didn’t end the pain
Know that it was England who shot Joe Swain
Giants they’re enlisted now, still staring at the sea
Filled with unsung stories, or hawking history
The sand it shifts beneath their feet
The tide rolls out and in
And always at the shoreline in the morning
So heave on the ropes and haul up the net
They say a storm’s a coming but we ain’t dead yet
We'll roll with the thunder like a thousand time before
In the belly of a giant on the old shop floor
So heave on the ropes and haul up the net
They say a storm’s a coming but we ain’t dead yet
We'll roll with the thunder like a thousand time before
And always at the shoreline in the morning
Always at the shoreline in the morning
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