The Cousin from the Yorkshire Coast (Niggling)

Lyrics

[Intro]

[Verse 1]
I stepped off the horse-drawn cart in Whitby Harbor, October 1902,
Brass pocket watch ticking heavy in my vest, engraved with the old ship Endeavour.
William Scoresby Jr. once held one like it, back in 1819,
Checking the time against the Arctic gales, no room for trifles.
But here I am, griping to the fishmonger at The Magpie Café,
About this niggling tear in my net, just a small thing, mind,
Cost me three cod last Tuesday, at 4 p.m. when the boats came in.

[Chorus]
Niggling, that's all it is, a niggling little bother,
Like the damp in my woolen flat cap after the morning drizzle,
Forty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, chilling the bones,
But I say it plain, no fuss, niggling as the day is long.
Mrs. Patterson turns red as a beetroot,
Can't spit it out, that word, niggling,
From Whitby coast to this godforsaken rock,
It's just a word for petty woes.

[Verse 2]
Wrapped my fish and chips in greasy newspaper from the Whitby Gazette,
Dated September 12, 1902, headlines about some market squabble.
Ate it hot on the harbor wall, vinegar tang sharp at dusk,
Thinking of that niggling delay with the cart's iron-rimmed wheels,
Creaking over cobblestones, smelling of salt and coal smoke.
Uncle always said, don't let the niggling bits ruin the haul,
Like Scoresby charting ice floes, precise to the minute.

[Bridge]
Now here on Point Nemo, I tell the Reverend,
This niggling ache in my knee from the sea air,
Mrs. Patterson coughs and leaves the room,
But it's innocent as the brass watch in my palm,
Ticking away the hours since 1789.

[Verse 3]
Pulled out the watch to show the twins,
Engraving worn from years at sea,
Niggling details, I say, like the superstition in Whitby folklore,
Say it three times while mending nets, and the catch goes sour.
But I use it straight, no spirits bothered,
Just a man from Yorkshire coast, plain speaking.

[Outro]
So here's to niggling complaints, small as they are,
From Whitby Harbor to this distant shore.