Before the war we used to go away
And spend a jolly time beside the sea
But when the railway fares went up
At home we had to stay
Because we hadn't got the L.S.D.
But Father struck a good idea
And made the house look gay
With railway posters pasted on each wall
In every room there's lovely views
From Deal to Donglas Bay
So now we never want to go at all.

Chorus: Oh the seaside posters round the home
We never want to journey by the foam
There's Brighton in the Bathroom
And Pa feels quite a swell
Because he cuts his corns outside the Metropol Hotel
We have Plymouth in the pantry
And there's Yarmouth in the yard
And Bournemouth we keep somewhere at the back
And in the little parlour where the ladies sit and chat
We've got Clacton with the accent on the 'clac'.

There's Blackpool in the bedroom
Just behind the washstand
I lie in bed and watch it by the hour
I keep the sponge and soap-dish
On a shelf just by the Wheel
And always hang my towel upon the Tower
There's Margate in the kitchen
And it brightens up the place
The cook declares it absolutely grand
Well Yesterday she spread our bit of sugar on the floor
Then sat on it and fancied it was sand.

Chorus: Oh the seaside posters round the home
We're sunburnt through the colours and the chrome
Theres' a lovely view of Shoreham
Near the dustbin you must know
Pa gets inside and fancies he is in his bungalow
The Pegwell Bay and Ramsgate on the stairway up to bed
These bits of Kent fill Father with delight
Well, sometimes when he's come home late
From dining at the club
He's been known to stop at Broadstairs for the night.

There's Sherringham and Cromer all around the drawing room
To make believe in Poppy land we tread
There's Eastbourne on the front street door
And when the postman comes
He drops the letters in through Beachy Head
We had a view of Hastings
But the Mater pulled it down
And when we gently asked the reason why
She didn't like the castle, it reminded her of Pa
And 'ancient ruins' always made her cry.

Chorus: Oh the seaside posters round the home
We never from our doorstep wish to roam
There's Worthing in the cellar where we keep the bottled stout
And Father often goes in there to watch the tide go out
We've got pictures of the Isle of Wight along the garden paths
From Totland Bay to Ventnors golden shore
And when the milkman comes and puts his cans upon the step
You could almost fancy Cowes was at the door.
Written and composed by Edgar Bateman & H.E. Pether - 1919
Performed by Ernest Hastings
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