And then we went and sat down by the sea
to wallow in debauch induc-ed haze.
Its gentle ebb that showed to what degree
We'd suffer for our sins, and paved the way
for sunday's serenade there by the beach.
But drums were not an ideal sound to hear
when my still settling pint was yet to reach
the agonising throb between my ears.
So off twixt shore and surf we sauntered now
in search of public transport to allow
our trip to Devil's Dyke and then some grub.
We spent an hour inside that dreadful pub
before my fury led me to refuse
to pay, and leave and write this little muse.
I gather you live in Mass like I do. I'd like to see this shore you speak of... Great write!