All Aboard the Puffin Shuttle
We’re getting on the Puffin Shuttle,
To whizz around the coast
of Pembrokeshire in the South of Wales.
The place I love the most.
The Puffin shuttle is a little bus
that drives us all around.
It shakes us up and down a lot
and makes a rumbling sound.
We’re on our summer holidays.
We come here to see gran.
She’s got a dog called Dylan
and a seaside caravan.
We’re off to see St David’s,
tiniest city in all the land.
To visit the cathedral,
it’s very big and grand.
Gran’s already told me
That I must hold her hand.
Last time I burst into song,
so this time singing’s banned.
Then we’re off to fish in rock pools
With my new red fishing net.
Catch sand eels, crabs and starfish.
The biggest ever yet.
We’ll paddle in the frothy sea.
Eat tasty pink ice cream.
I’ll smell coconut sun lotion
as it makes my freckles gleam.
I shall push my toes in warm soft sand
and bring a bucket full home for Lee.
Because she’s never built sandcastles
or visited the sea.
Tomorrow we’ve a boat trip booked.
Gran says nothing will compare
to the island that’s called Skomer
because there’s lots of Puffins there.
To whizz around the coast
of Pembrokeshire in the South of Wales.
The place I love the most.
The Puffin shuttle is a little bus
that drives us all around.
It shakes us up and down a lot
and makes a rumbling sound.
We’re on our summer holidays.
We come here to see gran.
She’s got a dog called Dylan
and a seaside caravan.
We’re off to see St David’s,
tiniest city in all the land.
To visit the cathedral,
it’s very big and grand.
Gran’s already told me
That I must hold her hand.
Last time I burst into song,
so this time singing’s banned.
Then we’re off to fish in rock pools
With my new red fishing net.
Catch sand eels, crabs and starfish.
The biggest ever yet.
We’ll paddle in the frothy sea.
Eat tasty pink ice cream.
I’ll smell coconut sun lotion
as it makes my freckles gleam.
I shall push my toes in warm soft sand
and bring a bucket full home for Lee.
Because she’s never built sandcastles
or visited the sea.
Tomorrow we’ve a boat trip booked.
Gran says nothing will compare
to the island that’s called Skomer
because there’s lots of Puffins there.
This poem is copyright (©) Sarah King 2025
About the Writer
Sarah King
Sarah lives in Pembrokeshire in Wales. She is a teacher, therapist, poet, writer, giggler, mother, grandmother to Percy Jackson (it's true, really!) Likes people, words, animals and the planet.