“Singing cockles and mussels alive, alive oh”

Stooped and steadfast she stood on the seashore, her body was bent forwards so crooked and sore, yet this was her passtime throughout her long laboursome life, a seafarer’s daughter, a fisherman’s wife.. 
Meagans big bucket was almost full to the brim with salty, seawater splashing over the rim.. so every cockle and mussel that Meagan did pick was thrown into her bucket with a toss and a flick

Each and every early morning in all kinds of weathers Meagan and her chums shared laughter and blethers, plucking the riches from the oceanic wealth, as they precariously perched on the rocks with scrupulous stealth.. they were masters at their mission, Meagan had done this all her life, right thru her childood and as her sea captain’s wife 

As I stroll the seashore melodious music fills the air, echoing from the woman who tread with caution and care, I join in the chorus each time it comes around, such a legendary, lovely, localised sound..”Singing cockles and mussles alive, alive Oh”
everybody from the seaside knows this one you know.. It’s a song that my Mother used to belt out to me as she boiled mussels and cockles in a pan happily