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