One I wrote about the trade in Limestone from the Gower being brought back to Somerset to burn in the Lime kilns.

LIMSTONE


Well I've spent all my life within sight of the sea.
A-ferrying the limestone has been the life for me,
A-ferrying the limestone from out across the sea,
And bringing it back for burning.

CH. And it's one last time off to the Gower coast,
One last time to fetch the stone to roast,
One last time off to the Gower coast,
And home again in the morning.

Time there was when it was a steady trade,
Sail across to Gower and anchor in a slade,
Digging at the cliff-face for a cargo ready made
For the hold of a slim polacca.

All along the coastline the kilns would burn away,
All along the cliff-top, near one to every bay,
Everywhere a boat could land and safely get away,
Bringing the stone for burning.

Beach her on the foreshore near the end of the slack,
Unload the lumps of limestone to the waiting donkey's backs,
Watch them climb the cliff-face by a narrow twisting track,
Float off with the next high water.

Well I've spent all my life within sight of the sea.
A-ferrying the limestone has been the life for me,
A-ferrying the limestone from out across the sea,
And bringing it back for burning.