Community Inscription

A group of people met to consider the words we wanted inscribed on the ‘clanger’ that would be ‘spoken’ every time the bell rings. Working with local musician Pete Moser and writer Mollie Baxter we came up with these 12 words

“Bay surging, channels filling, sun setting. I ring, I sing. Listen in.”

We also wrote a poem for every month of the year!


High tide rings in a New Year,
Morecambe Bay birds flock,
And gulls land beside steel cormorants.
They perch,
They wait,
They listen.
Chimes resonate along the Jetty,
Overheard by the Mythical Bird,
Who waits for resolutions.

Harriet Rose Stott



Even now
In this dark month
I am here
Still marking tides

If you have the ear to hear
You’ll find I sing the strike of rain
Or the bounce of a seagull’s cry
And from your blessed tellings too

So speak, then listen close
I’ll ring tide’s tidings back to you

Mollie Baxter



March winds and high spring tides.
I ring more loudly in the choppy seas
And bring visitors to hear my tone, those
Undaunted by the cold, and muffled up
To face the gust and icy spray
Of wintry day. Come – hear me ring.

Peter Ford



This is the month of Nature’s birth
Blunt Aries butts his way
Takes charge, beginning young and foolish with mad tricks
Then nudges us with colour, flowering thrift,
The sunshine comes to bless our days
And brighter tick the hours
And showers, light as grams, soften swelling tides

Let’s nurse our planet from today
Question the foregone
With feet to earth and eyes to sky
breathe love in and breathe love out
Constant as these chimes

Roy Watson & Mollie Baxter



I am the Bell, I’m listenin’
I am the Bell I’m listenin’.
Marine Road traffic quietly hummin’; wheels on jetty crunchin’ n’ whirrin’
Young feet stampin’, old feet shufflin’ – some feet dancin’, some feet shiverin.

I am the Bell I’m listenin’
Not my turn to join the singin’.
Seaweed squelchin’, sandworms drillin’, wings flappin’, swallows arrivin’.
Gulls squawkin, masts clinkin’, trawlers creakin’, tinny, breezy ringin’.

I am the Bell I’m listenin’
Not my turn to join the singin’.
Women laughin, workers shoutin’; mother cooin’, baby gigglin’;
Ice cream droppin, splattin’, splodgin’; child whimperin’, dad cajolin’.

I am the Bell I’m listenin’
Not my turn to join the singin’.
Channels fillin’, gurglin’, bubblin’; waves lappin’, bay surgin’.
Clanger danglin’, meetin, greetin – tide approachin …

I am the Bell, now listen in
It’s my turn to join in the singin’
Ding. Ding, dong, ding, dang, ding, dang. Ding, ding.

Moira Winters



Flaming June, the sun leads us to the longest day.
And the difference between light and dark leaps out,
grows startling, we see with tidal eyes:
The sea, ourselves, the World
It all must be contained, controlled, divided into Us –
– and Those Whom We Oppose
are kept as far away as we can push.

But the bell rings for both – and all,
Her offered truth waits between the tides,
Our task’s not hearkening the clapper’s strike,
But instead to hear the quiet times
And hold our peace
Instead hear the silence speak
Of the distance grown between two sides.

Roy Watson and Mollie Baxter



The Tide Bell rings out in July,
And there isn’t a cloud in the sky
He is livin’ the dream
As he slaps on suncream
Tho’ his clapper’s beginning to fry!

Mollie Baxter



In August the exposure works the other way
The sun bakes sand to clay
And a breeze deceives
We cook in our Primark
Turn to sand-peppered pink
Seagulls eye the chips we throw
They snatch them from the sky
We turn up after work and stay till sunset
We walk the jetty past the Bell

Roll private thoughts like balls from hand to hand
Lick our wrists to catch cornet drips
Sip hot tea from polystyrene cups and make more plans
Scrape hair back from our eyes and squint:

Over the Bay, impossible suns sink
We reach for camera phones to snatch
These moments back – something for our time lines
Proving we were here

Harriet Rose Stott & Mollie Baxter


September (Lament)

Oh no, don’t start your mithering
You’ll spoil a lovely day
The Summer is nearly over and you have had your say.

I’m a busy woman
You want me to save the planet?
I’ve got a job, three kids, a house to clean and a husband that eats like a gannet.

Can’t you just stand still and rest
Be quiet, enjoy the view
Watch the sunset, golden sky, bay framed with hills of deepening blue.

Okay, so we had a picnic
Some items may have gone missing.
A bottle top, a plastic straw; little things, so what, I’m not listening.

So shut your noise – ding, ding, dong;
Just let it be
There’s nothing more I can do to stop the rising level of the sea.

Moira Winters



A melancholy lament chimes on the ebbing tide
The summer’s disposable tears now spent
And youth remembers the year’s lost loves
Disposable fear left behind
Unkind the wrench of the Great RomanceDiscarded like plastic bags that don’t degrade The folly of human chance affairs straws on the wind
Disposable lighters disposable nylon nets
Tangled fishing line returned by a thankless tide
Tangled lives content to disregard the final word
Of warning disposable lives spent disposable
Summer ends. The bell tolls its lonely and final lament.

Roy Watson


November 2019

In November I shiver my song,
As the evenings grow bitter and long.
Some days I would alter
My location to Malta
But I don’t deviate from my Ding Dong

Peter Ford



In December
Snow flakes and short sharp waves
Nip a bitter staccato
Chill my tone.
I see your crisp red faces,
Watch you hurry in search of the perfect something
That says it all.
I hold your sadness when the search falls short
When somehow you can’t gift
The beauty of this Bay.

Marie Leadbetter