In British climes there are rarely times of day

When you can ladle on the cream because the sun is too extreme.

But one of the rules that the greatest fools obey,

Is that you roast beneath each blazing

And malignant melanoma-raising ray.

The natives fret when the nudists set their sails,

For there's a host of them, and most of them are males.

Flashmen and Peeping Toms go out in the Brighton sun.

Day trippers often care to;

The residents don't dare to.

Some, sweet, are so discreet whilst lounging with nothing on,

But Peeping Toms torment a fomenter.

The Flashmen stay on their backs all day while the Peeping Toms just stare;

When they start to ooze they pretend to snooze as it's waving in the air.

At Dyffryn, the muffs are in, but Black Rock has barely one,

For Flashmen and Peeping Toms go out in the Brighton sun.

It's such a surprise for the textile eyes to see

That every naturist is bold, and quite impervious to cold.

But poetic knaves like Robert Graves agree

That all the naked and the nude

Are quite as different as polite and rude can be.

The naked shrink and think it such a shock

To find that nudes protrude like sticks of Brighton Rock.

Flashmen and Peeping Toms go out in the Brighton sun.

They always use a lotion

To foster their promotion.

Heat waves upon their staves are just what the prudent shun,

But Peeping Toms and Flashmen are rash men.

At Studland Bay though the stamens sway in the safety of the dunes,

And seldom stand on the open sand any higher than cocoons,

At Black Rock, like hollyhock, they're tall as a mastodon,

For Flashmen and Peeping Toms go out in the Brighton sun.

Flashmen and Peeping Toms go out in the Brighton sun.

Although they both adore it,

The naturists deplore it.

Girl Guides and bona fides are shocked when they see the fun,

Whenever they detect an erecter.

In this sleepy town when the sun beats down and the warmth is guaranteed,

The mushroom heads on their pebble beds prepare to shed their seed.

On Black Rock, at six o'clock they foam at the crotch and run,

Those Flashmen and Peeping Toms who're out in the Brighton sun.

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