Hark, hark! (That’s a fancy word I found in a puddle!)
Hark, hark! And also hum! And perhaps a small doodle on a drum!
Are you tired of being you? Are you fed up with the sky being blue? Are you sick of the sea always coming in and then out and then in again, without ever making up its mind? Then come to Bognor Regis, where we have a solution!
No, we don't fix the sea. It’s hopeless. We are Britain. But we have got a Corner!
Yes! A whole Corner! It isn’t in London! That one is full of dead people who can’t complain about the spelling! Our Corner is CREATIVE BOGNOR POETS CORNER! And it is for the living! (Or at least, the slightly bewildered!)
What is it? Nobody knows! But it is full of POETS! They wear hats! They wear socks! (Though rarely on the same foot at the same time!) They say things like, "The seagull is the soul of the air, but why does it look like my aunt?" And other questions of a serious, custard-related nature!
Do you need to write a poem? No! You just need to listen! We invite you to bring your ears! If you have two, that is perfect! If you only have one, we can lend you a spare we found near the pier! It’s slightly deaf, but very polite.
WHY COME?
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It’s cheaper than a sandwich that has gone bad!
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The words are mostly clean!
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We might give you a free penguin! (Note: The management cannot find the penguin. We can offer you a small piece of string instead. It is blue.)
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