“Come to lovely Looe!” They said,
“And see the Jewel of Cornwall’s shores-
Where Cider, Cheese and Ale and Tea,
And Pasties rare will all be yours!
See Seagulls wheel, and Sardines sport,
In lovely Looe, our River Port –
Where golden beaches tickle toes,
And ***** and Ice Cream please the nose;
In Trago’s woods, hear Peacocks call;
And finest fish is here for all;
Where Farmers till the richest land,
And in the evening form a band;
To play ‘The Floral Dance’ I trow,
Or ‘Trelawny’s Air’ in measure slow.
And should you crave for Chips or Pies,
Or fine dressed Crab, sweet Fudge or Fries,
Then look no further; for the wise
And learned seek no more respite
Or ever eat another bite.
But wait! We have not told you yet
Of Sunshine, Sea and Leatherette;
Where bucket, ***** and children’s hand,
Build Castles fine upon the sand;
Where hardy Souls, in weather fine,
Do swim and frolic in the brine;
Or blessed Looe Island, Where tis whiled,
Our Saviour walked when but a child.
And in the evenings, music plays,
At festivals, and other days;
In taverns local to the town,
Where many a pint is quafféd down.
But ask no more what you should do;
Come join us here! There is no queue!”

I rode my Bike; I went to Looe;
And bless my Soul, It all was true!

Nelson the Sea.

In far Looe harbour, I’ve heard tell,
A curious ****** used to dwell;
With whiskered nose, and flippered feet,
Most partial to a fishy ****;
And proudly bearing Cornwall’s fame,
Lord Nelson Sealkins was his name!

He wore a suit of Ocean Grey,
Which gleamed like silk from day to day;
And though a fearsome name he bore,
He heeded not upon that score,
No gentler Bull graced Looe’s fair town,
Though many a China Shop met his frown;
But with a flip of fin and tail,
He parted hence with no travail!

Some say he fought the Spanish fleet,
And others at Trafalgar’s meet;
When storming ships with guns around,
He lost an eye in Calvi sound;
But others say it ‘twas not so;
For gentler Seal you’d never know.

And so for twenty years they say,
Our hero sported in the Bay;
And welcoming the proud Looe Fleet,
Which oft times sailed along his beat,
Escorted them to find their berth,
But from behind to sailor’s mirth,
And for his labour often found,
A herring thrown into the sound!

Oh Grand Old Man of the Sea!
The people came from miles to see;
This Maritime beast whose latter kin,
Do shyly hide their face and fin,
Except to Attenborough’s camera crew,
And possibly just another few,
With camera lens, and patient view.

Alas! The days of Seals and Men,
Are numbered few, and in the end,
Lord Nelson Sealkins went to stay,
With Davy Jones, in far Looe Bay.
But never was so loved a Seal,
Or famed a Phocidae mourned so well.

And so Looe folk, to honour due,
A Brazen statue deigned to cast;
By Suzie Marsh’s hand and eye,
And on a column by the mast;
Sir Robin Knox-Johnston CBE,
For was no lesser man than he,
Unveiled for ever to the view,
Of visitors to Lovely Looe,
A statue of this worthy beast;
Gazing to seaward, and the East.
While up above in Naval line,
Flew planes from Squadron 849,
An honour rare; to gladly mark,
The Seal who captured many hearts,
And still today refreshes parts,
That other Seals can never do.

Cold winter's blast had clad the streets
of lovely Looe in shrouds of white;
and eerie calm befell the Gulls
above the harbour and the lights

Behind each window, curtains peeked
As Children gazed with wondering eyes;
For garden, street and harbour wall
A million Diamonds seemed to prize

The Children ran to don their coats,
But Parents wisely bade them stay;
And after breakfast promised each,
To join them in their winter play

And so with hats, and scarves and gloves,
The Children in a happy band
With laughter and without a care,
Enjoyed their winter wonderland.

Dear God; Your ways mysterious are;
For on that scene of childish play,
You took from us a shining star;
An Angel fit with You to stay.

See through the streets on many a gate,
A sea of ribbons, Pink and True;
To celebrate the life and times,
Of Maisie Duncan, Child of Looe.

Now at the time of Snow-Drop blooms,
As winter wanes and soon departs;
We smile as we remember now,
A Child who loved, and touched our hearts.

Cunning Artificer I claim not to be
Yet I plannish the gasket on my ******
Like unction grace to the protocol I conform

In silent congregation

Speaking in tounges I elucidate
Mayhab Untangel Marabab