WHEN I was young we used to hike
From Brighton to the Devil’s Dyke.
In those days we would get our thrills
From roly-polys down the hills.
I remember that old cosy shack
But with the passing of the days
We see a changing of the ways.
Now hordes of people think it swell
To party at the Dyke Hotel
They’re rushing to the great outdoors
There are camper vans and four-by fours
And dogs and children by the scores
Remblers, riders, and hang gliders
Joggers, hikers, hairy bikers
Rush to join the ‘Devil Dikers’.
Then when the day is nearly done
We watch the setting of the sun
With cameras clicking one by one
And people- people having fun.