GONE WITH THE SWALLOWS, BOUND TO THE SEA

Gone with the Swallows, Bound to the Sea. Amy Salisbury writes about her poetic tribute to our brave seafarers.

This year, I had the honour of writing and reading a poem for Grimsby’s Fishermen’s Remembrance Day. A deeply personal tribute to the men of the sea, past and present. Titled Gone with the Swallows, Bound to the Sea, the poem was written especially for the service, and it carries with it the weight of memory, heritage, and respect.

Fishing is in my blood. I come from a long line of fishermen, our family stories echo those of Grimsby folk. Inspiration for the poem came from my Grandfather’s Bible, RNR Skipper William John Salisbury, he signed his Bible alongside Skipper Brown on the 16th of July, 1945 – page 259, First Book of the Kings..WGS. In this time he was in Command of a converted Trawler in WW2. These hardy vessels which once hauled nets, were now tasked with patrolling the treacherous seas, guarding against U boats and sweeping for deadly mines. With grit, skill, and a deep knowledge of the sea, these men played a crucial role in protecting our vital supply routes and keeping our nation fed and fighting. That simple act, that date, sat heavy on me. Those men put our lives before their own, we should never forget, never take it for granted.

We’re a superstitious lot, us fisherfolk. What may seem like small sayings or gestures to others carry deep meaning for us. For instance, we never say goodbye, it’s considered bad luck. Saying it might mean the sailor won’t return. Even watching them walk away or waving them off from the dock could bring misfortune. Instead, we say ta-ta for now. It’s a hopeful promise that we’ll see each other again.

I also wanted to include the symbolism of the swallow in the poem. Many of us have swallow tattoos. They aren’t just for luck or to mark miles at sea, but because the swallow will carry a drowned fisherman’s soul safely to heaven. That belief brings comfort, even when the sea shows no mercy.

This poem was a way of honouring all of that, the stories, the sacrifices, and the souls still working tirelessly to bring fish to our tables today. The job is as tough as it ever was, and our fishermen deserve more recognition than they often receive.

I’m incredibly proud to support the Fisherman’s Mission and, in particular, the wonderful Susan Brown, who’s dedication knows no bounds. The Mission works tirelessly to protect the wellbeing of our fishing communities. Not just in crisis, but every single day. Whether it’s offering emotional support, practical help, or been there with a warm smile and a listening ear, their work is a lifeline to so many. For the men and women who brave the sea, and the families who wait for them ashore, this supports makes all the difference.

As an island nation, the sea is our lifeblood, and fishing has shaped who we are. It’s only right that we pause, reflect, and remember those who have gone before us, those who are now, perhaps, gone with the swallows, bound to the sea.

Filmographer, Grimsby-born Rich Tipple of Cleebridge Films

Gone with the Swallows, Bound to the Sea
A Grimsby Fisherman’s Farewell

by Amy Salisbury

The wind it howled and the sea did call,
Grimsby men rose before first light’s fall.
Oilskins fastened, nets to hand,
Sailing again from their beloved land.

No throne they claimed, no crown they wore,
Yet kings they were on the ocean floor.
For each man knew … from lad to the grey ..
The sea gave and took, in her own fierce way.

Head up North, where dark waters roll,
They cast their nets deep, heart tied to soul.
No riches were promised, no easy reward,
But they trusted the sea … and trusted the Lord.

They knew of old kings, and Solomon’s prayer,
Of wisdom more precious than jewels rare.
So too they sought … not gold, but grace,
And strength to endure in that loneliest place.

Storms would rise, and tempers fray,
But they stood fast, with a hope and a prayer.
For fish to fill nets, for winds to ease,
For safe journey home through tumbling seas.

The sea spoke stern, yet softly too,
Teaching them lessons ancient and true.
That kings may rule and prophets be fed,
But fishermen live where the humble are led.

So home they sail, to tales by the hearth,
Of monstrous waves and nature’s wrath.
And though no sceptre or robe they claim,
Grimsby’s fishermen wear wisdom as fame.

For rulers may falter, and towers may fall,
But men of the sea still answer the call.
Bound to the tide, to faith and to kin,
Like the kings of old … steady within.

And when their tales drift soft on the breeze,
With salt in the air and the calm of the seas,
Down dock falls quiet, the day grows thin ..
Off with the swallows In that gentle wind

So rest, brave fishermen, your stories endow…
Ta-ta for now … till the sea calls somehow.

Main image: Amy with David Ornsby from the National Fishing Museum