And it′s also the end of broadcasting for Thursday

The end of broadcasting for 1970 (Seven to severe hail, nine)

Decreasing six in Humber later

Rain then showers, moderate to poor becoming good

Southwesterly, six to gale eight, occasionally, severe gale nine

At the third stroke, it will be 11: 24 and 50 seconds

At the third stroke, it will be 11: 25, precisely

This is the British Broadcasting Corporation

At the third stroke it will be 8: 57, precisely

In north southwesterly, 4 or 5 otherwise variable rainfall

Mainly northerly in the southeast

A happy new year to you all

At the third stroke, it will be 11: 25, precisely

Goodnight, everyone

Lie with me now

Under lemon tree skies

Show me the shy slow smile you keep, hidden by warm brown eyes

Catch the sweet hover of lips just barely apart

And wonder at loves, sweet ache and the wild beat of my heart

Oh, rhapsody tearing me, apart

And I dreamed I was saying goodbye to my child

She was taking a last look, at the sea

Wading through dreams

Up to our knees in warm ocean swells

While bathing belles

Soft beneath hard bitten, shells punch their IPhones

Erasing the numbers of redundant lovers, and search the horizon

And you'll find my child

Down by the shore

Digging around, for a chain or a bone

Searching the sand for a relic washed, up by the Sea

The last refugee