End of summer, 'fore winters coming, in term break set a sail,
We cast the mast to roam from home, for Treasure Island tale.
Pirate ship, holiday trip, on beach in foam, and spray,
Black Jack and Long John on stormy Whithorn play.
Wave on wave the crest curls surge, breakers roar and smack.
Surf in retreat, sound carbine rounds, pebbles tumbling back.
Battle ground, war cries resound, children shout and squeal,
Fight and flight against the tide, with heady dash and zeal.
A daring rush to rock outcrop, between the flood the fail,
Returning lash, around them splash, cuts off their homeward trail.
Driftwood muskets, shells in buckets, defend archipelago,
As gales gust and oceans rush, besiege them all below.
Like gun smoke, the steaming sea, their hair all crystal beaded,
Coalesce on face, the silver trace, on cheeks the mock tears seeded,
For comrade lost, his gum boots topped, retires in dampened hoses,
For Lucozade, and Mum's first aid, in stockaid gently dozes.
Skirmish over, back to Dover, walking hand in hand.
War forgotten, spoils ill gotten picked from rippled sand.
Muscle cups, and winkle whirls, cockles ribbed and fanned.
Family fun, over, done, our Treasure Island band.