And up to their knees in the water.
Let maritime maniacs, wetted with spray,
Discourse on a cleat or a cringle—
But let me throw stones in the water all day
And roll on the sand and the shingle!
I'd much rather take a good pull at ozone
Without all this bustle and riot;
If well-meaning friends would but leave me alone,
To bask in the sunshine and quiet.
Such labour as theirs fills my heart with dismay—