A mission, no a calling, to reach thou blessed beach.
Depart distractions, and wasted wanderings, that your healing I may reach.
At peace, and a sponge I am with you, for all you wisely teach.
Drip your delights down my chin, like a ripe ol’ Georgia peach.
An appreciation for all your congregants, even the blondes-a-bleach.
Begone those city tentacles, I so boldly beseech.
So my heart can devour all your spirit, ohh mighty beach.