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April 26, 2012
A million pebbles on the sea shore
Skimmed gently out to sea
By weekend revellers and nudists too
Only in Brighton can we be
No sign of sand anywhere
Just seagulls screeching with glee
Their voices hauntingly melancholy
Only in Brighton can we be
Thrashing waters, killer waves
At high tide we all flee
Back through ‘The Lanes’ to our Hotel
Only in Brighton can we be
A burnt out pier, needing restoration
No bucket and spade for the child at our knee
But we shall return, like years before, for
Only in Brighton can we be
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