3 June 2012
The beach is perfectly organised by a mysterious figure,
He doesn't dare dither for fear of being caught,
He rushes around, picking up fancy shells waiting to be bought,
And puts them on the beach, as little pieces of treasure, Just waiting to be found,
Sitting very patiently, stranded on the ground.
He makes sure crabs shine and glow,
Make sure they appear for a pleasing show,
He lays down seaweed,
Just like green hair,
Scattered by the rock pools, just enough to beat.
I never saw this amazing chap,
But he never disappoints,
And
Magic
He
Appoints.
The Beach Man • Opuss № I