| I’m going up the `pool from down the smoke below
|
| to taste my mum’s jam sarnies and see our Aunty Flo.
|
| The candyfloss salesman watches ladies in the sand
|
| down for a freaky weekend in the hope that they’ll be meeting
|
| Mister Universe.
|
| The iron tower smiles down upon the silver sea
|
| and along the golden mile they’ll be swigging mugs of tea.
|
| The politicians there who’ve come to take the air
|
| while posing for the daily press
|
| will look around and blame the mess
|
| on Edward Bear.
|
| There’ll be bucket, spades and bingo, cockles, mussels, rainy days,
|
| seaweed and sand castles, icy waves.
|
| Deck chairs, rubber dinghies, old vests, braces dangling down,
|
| sun-tanned stranded starfish in a daze.
|
| We’re going up the `pool from down the smoke below
|
| to taste my mum’s jam sarnies and see our Aunty Flo.
|
| The candy floss salesman watches ladies in the sand
|
| down for a freaky weekend in the hope that they’ll be meeting
|
| Mister Universe.
|
| There’ll be buckets, spades and bingo, cockles, mussels, rainy days,
|
| seaweed and sand castles, icy waves,
|
| Deck chairs, rubber dinghies, old vests, braces dangling down,
|
| sun-tanned stranded starfish in a daze.
|
| Oh Blackpool,
|
| oh Blackpool. |