The end of summer has come,
say goodbye tot he cornish sun.
The rush or tourists from west to east,
leaving us with the very least.
Fear not the fish are still swarming,
the taste of sea bass is still very warming
A cold breeze breaks the stem of the old brown leaves.
clocks go back darkness dominates.
collect the logs for those long nights in.
Not long now the christmas spirit will soon begin.
Winter swells have just begun,
all surfers are on the run.
Snowy hills, Icy lakes,
hope my new van has trusting brakes.
The whistling kettle never seems to stop.
Warm your cockles on the uk’s finest crop.
Crisp and clear, do not fear,
easter is on its way,
summer is near.
If only it went this fast,
us surfers may be able to last.
Still we plough through, with a sigh of relief,
leaving winter behind, with nothing but grief.
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