Walking to the shore alone
No friends to call on telephone
Drifting by light of white moon
Knowing he won’t be home soon

Spends the once for granted days
In a most enchanted way
Rests besides the frothy hands
The best friend of a lonely man

Sleeps on beds of splendid sands
Admiring the handsome lands
The playing of the zephyr’s song
And the idle seashell throng

The last of summer season’s passed
And winter soon approaching fast
Fall is summer’s last appeal
But the chill is what he feels

The wheaten gold and silver grass
Is now a season of the past
Fall has come to take away
His companion on a lonely day

So wandering along the sand
Is a weathered lonely man
Slouches as he walks on home
He mumbles as he walks alone

Sand is better than my shelter
I would rather sleep and swelter
On the seaside by my friend
Than spend the night back home again