"Beacon, beacon, lonesome on a hill-
Waves run aground, pound 'round, what a thrill!
Water water everywhere crashes,
Shore's not lazy for it mashes, bashes.....
Summer's when tourists traipse o'er to see you,
Offering to wipe-wash your dust and mildew;
Summer painters place you with dinghy and gull,
Historians have you as subject o'er which to mull."
― Mariecor Ruediger