LAZY WIND by John Kett

I'm the on'y one on Cromer pier this February day, An' what they call a lazy wind is whippin' up the spray; That lazy wind, that crazy wind, From icy seas come tew yer, Tha's jus' tew lazy t'go round, an' so that go clean trew yer!

There's waves a-roarin' up the beach, wi'foam a-flyin' high, An wicket sheets o' bitin' sleet come swirlin' orf the sky. Ah, yew may try t'hide away, That wind'll still git near yer, An' when that dew, that go right trew - ah, tha's enough t'fleer yer!

The sea come crashin' on the stones, there's snow there on the sand; The wind get wuss; tha's now a gaale, an' I can hardly stand- That bitin' wind, that fightin' wind, Thas healthy, so they say, bor; There in't no germs on Cromer pier, tha's blew 'em all away, bor!

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