SN Potter Pops

Hey there, San Nicolas, land of clay and sweat,

Where hands shape the stories we'll never forget.

Pots and stoves, baked in the sun,

A craft that's old but forever young.

From the farmlands to the kiln’s warm glow,

The heel of the town where the proud ones go.

Clay in their palms, tradition in their eyes,

Crafting utensils that stand the test of time.

Oh, San Nicolas, your spirit’s in each mold,

A story of hands, diligent and bold.

A splash of wit, a pinch of art,

This ancient craft beats in every heart.

Raise a pot for San Nicolas, where pride runs deep,

In every curve and line, your memories keep.

With grit and grace, they turn earth into gold,

The artisans’ legacy, stories retold.

Not just chores, it’s a dance, a tradition’s tune,

Under the Ilocos sun, they craft till noon.

Hands that know the soil, the fire, the skill,

Turning humble clay into a work of will.

Here’s to the potters, keepers of flame,

Turning earth into art, never the same.

With a wink and a nod, they shape with pride,

In San Nicolas, traditions abide.

Raise a pot for San Nicolas, where pride runs deep,

In every curve and line, your memories keep.

With grit and grace, they turn earth into gold,

The artisans’ legacy, stories retold.

So next time you see a pot, think of the land,

Of the hands that mold it, and the hopes so grand.

A town that’s rocking the boat of tradition,

With clay and passion, a dedicated mission.

San Nicolas, your spirit’s alive and well,

In every utilitarian tale you tell.

Here’s to the makers, the craft, the art,

Forever proud, forever smart.