The Kings of Esk

A heartfelt tribute to the homing seagulls of Whitby
(With sincere apologies to Dave Sudbury)

In the West End of Whitby, lives a working chap;
He says, "I can't stand all this bloody seagull crap,
And when I eat my tea,
They steal it all from me
And lift it up with screeching squawks."

Charlie's chip shop stood down a yard,
The queues grew long and the waiting time was hard;
But the seagulls were plain mean,
And in twenty thirteen,
They stole the cod'n'chips of every tripper in the town.

Charlie went to the council with a plan,
"With a pair of peregrine falcon, I'm your man,
I'll drive away those birds,
All for a just reward"
The mayor agreed that it would save the tourist trade.

Charlie unleashed his birds of prey
They soared, then swooped, down on the bay;
Two gull chicks on the mud
Were reduced to feathers and blood
And ten thousand herring gull flew off to Staithes.

The silence in the town was strange and eerie.
People could stand outdoors and talk quite freely;
Charlie sent in his bill
But council just stood still
And said it hadn't been approved by Eric Pickles.

Charlie went to the Endeavour for a pint or five,
When he saw a huge cloud gathering up high;
"Charlie, it's the Kings of Esk,
Come back to wreak revenge,
Come inside quick, they're heading right this way."

The flock swept down in majesty
The crowd all fled in terror from the scene,
Charlie had no chance,
The seagulls deadly dance
Left him quivering beneath a heap of fresh guano.

In the West End of Whitby, lives a working chap;
He says, "I can't stand all this bloody seagull crap,
And when I eat my tea,
They steal it all from me
And lift it up with screeching squawks."

Caedmon