This is my contribution. Written after a conversation in a pub in Staithes, A small fishing village on the North- East coast, (UK)


THE GANSEY SONG

I'm sitting with my needles and my wool
I'm rocking in my granny's rocking chair
I'm rocking to the clicking
Of the needles as I'm knitting
And thinking of my fisher lad out there

CHORUS: I'm knitting him a gansey
So if he's lost in the foam
When the sea decides to give him up
They'll send his body home

I'm putting all my prayers into my knitting
The gansey'll keep him dry and keep him warm
When he's fishing in the sea
I know he'll think of me
And know I'm hoping he'll stay free from harm

It's how we women tell the men we love them
It help's us to survive each lonely night
No worrying or fretting
With our fingers busy knitting
Think hard - you've got to keep the pattern right

For the pattern on each gansey is important
It shows the very village or the town
To where the fisher lads and men
Can be carried home again
Just supposing that the boat they're on goes down

When he first went to sea his mother knitted
A gansey like the one she made his dad
But now that he's with me
This gansey's going to be
The finest any fisherman has had