We have to go as far back as 1974 to get a tribute from a major player pop star.

The song Grimsby is from the Elton John album Caribou, and below this we feature the lyrics and a link to a live performance of the song. It is a pretty dubious tune with ever so slightly dodgy lyrics, but it is heartfelt and there is nothing dubious about the connection between the star and the area.  Elton’s long time lyricist Bernie Taupin was born in Sleaford, grew up in Market Rasen and frequently visited Grimsby for giggles and kicks. Sadly, at least for the raison d’être of The Straw That Broke The Haddock’s Back, Elton’s classic ‘ Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting’ was also written about Taupin’s escapades in Grimsby, Cleethorpes and the Rasen!

As I lay dreamin’ in my bed
Across the great divide
I thought I heard the trawler boats
Returnin’ on the tide

And in this vision of my home
The shingle beach did ring
I saw the lights along the pier
That made my senses sing

Oh oh Grimsby, a thousand delights
Couldn’t match the sweet sights
Oh, my Grimsby
Oh, England you’re fair
But there’s none to compare with my Grimsby

Through nights of mad youth
I have loved every sluice in your harbor
And in your wild sands, boyhood to man
Strangers have found themselves fathers

Take me back you rustic town
I miss your magic charm
Just to smell your candy floss
Or drink in the skinners arms

No Cordon Bleu can match the beauty
Of your pies and peas
I want to ride your fairground
Take air along the key

Oh Grimsby, a thousand delights
Couldn’t match the sweet sights
Oh, my Grimsby
Oh, England you’re fair
But there’s none to compare with my Grimsby

Through nights of mad youth
I have loved every sluice in your harbor
And in your wild sands, boyhood to man
Strangers have found themselves fathers

 

 

 

 

To love the crumbling majesty
Of warehouses and factories,
The empty shells of industry
In silhouette against the sky,
It takes a certain kind of eye
Conceived in the vicinity.

To think a rugged beauty lies
Within the worst place to reside,
Washed up surely as the tide
Requires a very special mind,
Perhaps of Viking heritage,
Perhaps descendant of a fish.

Possessed of self-effacing charm,
Broadsheet readers be alarmed,
Expletives can slip out sometimes
From certain members of the tribe,
Especially when their camp’s decried
Slandered, laughed at, vilified.

It’s not that we don’t know for why
Such insults might be justified.
It’s not that we don’t loathe the crime
Or note the lack of civic pride,
So put the snide remarks on ice
Those demons must be exorcised.

For on the Humber’s silty sides
The sun can turn a reddened eye,
And in that mottled light provide
A view of docks and estuary,
A painter just might kill to see,
A landscape for posterity.

Hold off with your obituary,
If it’s not quite your place to be,
Then here’s a boat and there’s the sea.
Hellhole? No hope? Ambition free?
I’m sorry but I can’t agree
It’s where I’m from. It’s Great. Grimsby.

OMB