On working days I am confined,
An office desk to sit behind.
Comes Saturday and I am free
To wander idly by the sea.
But sluggards do not have this pleasure:
The 'Joys of Neptune' for their leisure.

With camera full of 'HP3',
The beach have I and liberty
And camera eye becomes much keener
When I espy 'Marie Cristina'.
Young children dance around her bows
As she in search of lobster goes.

And further on along the sand
Three patient donkeys, sweating, stand
Amid the noise, the flies, the heat
It's work for them but children's treat.

Into the brine the frogman goes
With snorkel, flippers, rubber clothes
To swim about, in depths down under
Beneath the surf's tumultuous thunder.

A space-like craft for hire plies
And youngsters race with joyous cries.
The winner has the choice of place
Aboard the craft from outer space.

No beach scene is complete of course
Without a lady and her horse.
At last the time comes to return,
My spirits lifted, face aburn.
Comes Monday morning, I don't mind
That office desk to sit behind.