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.
|
|
-----------------
|
Up The `Pool
|
| Jethro Tull |
