Southwold Sea front

The village green, the village hall,

The village church - I’ve seen them all,

A piece of perfect nothing missed,

A stranger’s welcome - get the drift,

Built to scale, drawn by the sea,

A picture postcard - nothing’s free!

Blustery gale across the pier,

The seagull echoes quaver near,

Then most eccentric British quaint:

The sight of huts adorned in paint,

All Colours of a rainbow turned

Grey sky to promise - price to earn,

“What am I bid? A thousand you say,

Who’ll pay me the balance of 49K?”

The price seems so dear,

But what do you know,

The fancy of old -

The Emperor’s new clothes!

©Philip Holden

2003

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