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Words & music

 Ed Pickford © prs


The snow was falling very fast

The world was white as white

With hands so cold the snow I rolled

In South Shields late one night

I felt as happy as a kid

As through the snow I kicked

When I woke in the morning

My snowman had been nicked!


If he’d been wee’d on by some dog

I’d try to understand  

If he’d been kicked in by some drunk                                                                          

It wouldn’t seem so planned

But kidnapped in the dead of night

By villains on the rob

In the words of dear old Shakespeare

That’s a right bat in the gob


Chorus:

Where is my South Shields snowman?

That’s what I want to know

He was there last night now all that’s left

Are sledge marks in the snow

How can a mind be so unkind?

How can a mind be so unkind?

Oh what am I to do?

Where is my South Shields snowman?

Boo-hoo, boo-hoo, boo-hoo!

  


I traced those sledge marks in the snow

They led straight to the cliff

Where far below the cold North Sea

Pounds out a heavy riff

Was that the way he met his end?

Hurled right from the edge

You can bet those evil gits

Even pinched the sledge.


Chorus


I know that clouds come from the sea     

I know that snow comes down

I know as well eventually

It all goes round and round

But liquidised before his time

Really isn’t cricket

I’ll never go to Shields again

It’s wicked, wicked, wicked!


Chorus




The South Shields Snowman

South Shields - birthplace of

John Simpson Kirkpatrick

(6 July 1892 – 19 May 1915)