Did some storytelling in Barrow once about 15 years ago; never been back but I see it most every day, and night, the distant light glistening across the bay...

By the old Fleetwood Pavilion, lookin' northward to the sea,
There's a Barrow girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the chimneys, and the mobile ring-tones they say:
"Come you back, you storyteller; come you back Barrow way!"
Come you back Barrow way,
Where the old car ferries lay:
Can't you 'ear their propellors chunkin' from Larne to Morecambe Bay?
On the road out Barrow way,
Where the flat-fishes they play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer Fleetwood 'crost the Bay!

Just a thought...