The night was young
The moon was full
The tide was turning fine
When Stevie D
Took rake in hand
And upon the lorry climbed.
With the Old Town breeze
Blowing strong and cold
The convoys vehicles formed
Rakes and shovels
Sweaty wellies
They headed for The Bowl.
In their eyes
Burnt a lust
For seawater
Coal and sand
But the beach patrol
Were guarding
Torch and truncheon
In angry hands.
The smell of Gold tobacco
Wisped through hostile air
Tonight Ten Four you will know
That youve earned your pay.
On and on through red traffic lights
And streets that said One Way
Destination coal filled beaches
No licence, no MOT, no care.
As they came in view
A barricaded entrance
A dozen snarling guards
Stevie D gave a warning
After three feet
Beware of sharks.
A host of prams
Salt covered bicycles
Trumbling barrows
Draped with sacks
Stevie saluted as they rammed the gate
And was promoted from private to sarge.
The barricade lay in ruins
Bewildered guards dispersed
The beach a surrendered gold mine
Get loading money is time.