The holidays are here once more
And crowds head off for sea and shore
Spades and buckets filled with sand
Or starfish, crabs, all caught by hand
Your children squealing with delight
When someone starts a water fight
Then running up and down the beach
Just making sure you’re out of reach
But finally you take their hand
And sit them down upon the sand
For sandwiches and cans of pop
Yet even then they fail to stop
From moving piles of warm dry sand
With wriggling toes or one free hand
At last the picnic lunch is gone
Except for one last gritty scone
So now you’ve really got to prove
That you can dig and start to move
Vast amounts of soft wet sand
And build a castle fine and grand
”It was a pity, Dad” they’d say
”To watch the sea wash it away”