Dedicated to all Ex Filey Redcoats, a poem by Ron Stanway Back

The local Yorkshire folk cried in their novel prose,
"Billy Butlin’s come to Filey, tha knowse"!
The RAF were the first to live there as World War 2 had begun,
When peace was declared the airmen moved on, for them it hadn't been much fun.

Billy came back with his happy band, ready to create his haven of fun.
Looking across Filey Bay, see the sea, sand and sun.
The camp had it's own railway station and line,
Bringing in the happy campers, all wanting a good time

Hundreds of staff and thousands of guests were foreseen,
Disturbing the peace of this rural scene.
Whilst many appreciated what they enjoyed best,
The teenagers were at times, 'a reyt bloody pest'.

Budding Redcoats applied from near and far,
To learn show business and become a star.
So many of them did many a season,
The job got in your blood, a good enough reason.

Georgie Outram, 'Rocky' Mason and Gerry Maxim, to name but a few,
'Rocky's', 'Cannon of Death' worked well and through the air, a sucker flew.
,Eee-Bah-Gum, they were Filey buddies for many a year,
Would they have rather gone down to Bognor, no bloody fear!

Young Gerry, a sporting blade had all his friends perplexed,
They seldom knew exactly what he would be up to next.
One night was in a lovely girls chalet, whereat 'Rocky' that 'orrible cad,
Went and knocked on her parents door and summoned her dear old dad.
As Gerry shot off down the line, his clothing over his arm,
The Chief of Security said, "he's not a bad lad, she's not come to any harm"

Charlie Drake and Des O'Connor, Filey Redcoats in about '53 or '54
Soon 'trod the boards' and yearned for more.
Des was the comedian with his jokes and soon began to sing,
While Charlie called the Bingo and did slapstick, in the boxing ring!

The Yorkshire Moors and Dales are not very far away,
Well worth a visit on your weekly rest day.
That popular camp, where millions passed thro' the door,
In the mid 90's, was raised to the floor.

Just memories to treasure and ghosts to remind us,
T'was our Yorkshire home for maybe weeks or a year,
We would go back tomorrow, never you fear!

By eck-as-like lad, I was there too.

Ron Stanway (Filey 1963/4/5).