Where the children shout and tumble, spade and bucket in their hands.
Where sandy castles rise in scores, I trow a man might float
A fleet of six-inch pleasure-skiffs on many a deep-dug moat.
Where, while the banjos discord make, the German bands make noise,
And nursemaids by the hundred shepherd flocks of girls and boys.
Where the boys tuck up their trousers, and the girls tuck up their frocks,
A paddling tribe who scorn their shoes and customary socks.
Ye loud-voiced men of cocoa-nuts, what is it that you say?
"Come try yer luck, roll, bowl, or pitch; the lydies stand' alf-way."
One youth I saw who took his stand, a clerk of pith was he,