The ebb the flow, the stay the go upon the shifting sands
The ebb the flow the yes the no the water and the land
I blew in on an August wind and some of it went to plan but I didn’t have one
The ebb the...
Prettiness not splendour
Pleasure but not rapture
Festival and carnival and fireworks to bright the dull
Seventies and eighties fancy dress and shops that sell it.
Fish and chips, Cornish pasty, cream tea
‘If you’re a Devon dumpling do you put jam or cream
On your scone and do you call it a scone or a scone?’
Christmas run into the sea, not me
But my daughter's little pink costume
And smile beneath her dripping locks
Are pictured in the paper.
'Pretty as a picture'
We’re pretty as a picture here.
The ebb the flow the yes the no upon the shifting..
I flew in on a broken wing and –
What now, where to?
Small town small views
Old cat comes back home – front page news.
And we yakk on about crime when there’s next to none.
And we rage against change
Rage against change our local faith and passion.
And yes it’s sometimes done wrong and for the wrong reasons
And money reaches the wrong hands
But the sea wears down the rock, wears to a
Slippy seaweedy boulder, a moving pebble
To the warm grains beneath my summer feet.
Old cat comes back home
Pretty as a picture.
And we’re pretty and resilient as iron age candyfloss
And all our votes turn trueblue tory
We’re a libdem town in a toryocracy constituency
And he holds on fast like a bilge-clad barnacle.
The ebbs the stay the plans the ifs the buts the maybes.
I sit in Harbour View, pot of tea for one
And I stare out to sea.
And the sea tells me –
Nothing! it’s sodding water.
Brexmouth or Remain?
These I shall miss –
Pot of tea for one at Harbour View
Quiz night at the Railway Club
Old man bands rocking their sounds
And my friends, my friends who I don’t tell
That I help a Syrian family with their English homework
Because I don’t want the featherweight yes or no votes
Of people who only know England and
Whose ancestors only know England.
Yeh I’m unfair to my friends with their sometimes small views
And their mainly big hearts.
And perhaps after 18 years
Exmouth is my friend now
Not the friend for a week and wow!
Wasn’t that great friend
But the friend who I take for granted
The friend who is there for me
The friend who knows me outside in and inside out.
And if I go and going does not work out –
Old cat pads on home