I have a book somewhere called 'Gobbin's Tales' which is all about Ossy. I've just searched through all my books but happen I left it in England. As far as I can remember you had to be born near Tinker Brook or the Library.......sorry, memory is failing, lol,..........to be a proper Gobbin.
Failing to find the book I did a search on google and came up with this........strange!!!
Accrington was famous for it's Nori's Great Harwood, for it's mills and fabled snuff, And the Papermill at Rishton was a landmark, As was the stream that wound through Priestly Clough. To scale the mighty Coppice was a conquest, Of late fragmented by a noisy motorway, Like yer 'Lectric and yer Bulloughs, most is gone now, Never more to see the light of Hyndburn's day. Dear old Oswaldtwistle, too, is much devalued, Gobbins' rarely lift their heads o'er Tinker Brook, An' Pit at Huncoat lies a dusty memory, Like it's power station - gone, long since forsook. Branch line stations served the Urban population, With sidings, yards and endless loops and tracks, Whence industry and commerce thrived in tandem, Till Beeching smashed the railways with his axe. An amalgam of these proud old towns and hamlets, Threw up Hyndburn - what an awful choice of name! Still, just look around the townships and consider, Is this cocked up shambles worthy of acclaim? For a home without a heart amounts to nothing, But a soulless place where smiles are seldom seen, Where once proud streets are filled with drunks and litter, 'Tis as though our civic pride has never been. Signs are we're soon to see our Picture Palace, Our furtive Council have at last awarded trumps, But to give us back our pride and reverse the ebbing tide, We need to press all hands back to the pumps. End
