Up the Pool

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.