We're going to the seaside,
where the seashore's slapped
by the surf-topped sighs of the seas,

where the cormorants and gulls
ride the turning tide
and the rock pools shelter red anemones.


Chorus: Where the air is tangy
and the beach is sandy

and the cliffs are kissed by the breeze.
We're going to the seaside
where the gulls cry loud

over susurration of the salty seas.

We're going to the seaside

where high cliffs are formed
by the waves that crash on the land,
and the sea against the stones

over many years
turn the biggest rocks
to finest golden sand.


Chorus


We're going to the seaside
where the silver moon
makes the ocean move in its tide

and the seaweed-tangled water
under white-flecked waves
is where jellyfish and crabs and oysters hide.


Chorus