It’s not a seaside town, it’s a town by the sea
It’s not much to look at, a bit like you and me,
It’s quirky and it’s quaint and it needs a lick of paint.
It’s Peter White our famed Town Crier,
Shoal Project seating and the Guy Fawkes fire,
It’s shrieking gulls and the upturned hulls
Of little boats that won’t risk the bay –
It’s the waves at Splash Point, getting higher every day.
It’s the sunrise looking pretty over bungalow city,
It’s thronging caffs by days and raucous pubs by nights
But watch out when the Council want to turn off all the lights.
It’s the Library seat and the little High Street
And its scaffolding existing for so long it’s got a Listing,
Grade II. It’s true! Would I lie to you?
Folks turned on by high winds think they’ve won the bloody lotto,
E ventis vires is our proud and perfect motto.
It’s walking down a windswept street and trying to keep your feet
It’s Winter’s happy tingle when the diggers shift the shingle
It’s kittiwakes and shags perched on the crumbling crags
It’s where the authorities latest purge is
Cutting budgets not grass verges,
Environmentally friendly to slug, snake, and frog,
But you can’t scoop your poop when you can’t find your dog.
It’s Sussex living, a gift that goes on giving,
So give it some love, we wun’t be druv,
It’s all amongst downland that won’t let us down,
Our windy and wonderful Seaford Town!
Chris Goode, June 2018