Monday 9 April 2012

When The Wind is in the West










When the wind is in the west and the string is in me vest,
I sit on the sand by the sea.
When the sun beats down, on me head so brown,
everything stops for tea.

When the seagull has landed I smack it left handed,
from me picnic that it's stabbing with it's beak.
When the damn thing squawks and does funny walks,
I chuck it some pie with leek.

When the tide goes out with a whoop and a shout,
the kids fly kites so high.
When the ice-cream melts, over shirts and belts,
and a train goes whistling by.

When the waves hit me feet, it feels such a treat,
to be paddling there once more.
When too long in the sun leaves me nose well-done,
and me forehead red and sore.

When the sunset falls and the chip shop calls,
with a promise of vinegar and salt.
When I sip brown ale, it's blowing a gale,
time to get out me bottle of malt.

When the caravan groans and the west wind moans,
I snuggle with me missus in the awning.
When with bucket and spade and me picnic made,
we'll do all again in the mornin'.

4 comments:

  1. This is hilarious. It reminds me of our holidays at Skegness in the 60s (except that would be the East wind and you'd lose the alliteration!)

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  2. Well blow me down with a west wind! I had Skeggy in mind when I wrote it. We used to go to Chapel St Leonards just up the road nearly every year when I was very young. We might have sat next to each other on the same beach...small world!

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  3. Well double blow me down. We had a caravan at Ingoldmels and often walked to Chapel St Leonards. Small world, isn't it!

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  4. I've been to Skegness but I'm afraid it was Butins when the kids were young. I loved this poem describes a day at the seaside perfectly.

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