Marsman

oozes tentacly downramp.

A widow by the ocean lookin for her lover

Heads down to see the beach to see what the water brought her

Seagull lady skipping gaily

O'er the bones of dead sailors

A fine man of good complexion

sits done amongst the collection

Handsome feller in God's cellar

Thinks the woman winsome

She lays out her picnic blanket

Checkered red with speckles on it

Like lovers last summer

And lovers watch the sailor's ships

One's going west and another east

And among them all none the least

Good enough for loving

Who's bones are not on the beach

Sun is orange in the sky

White gulls flying by

Bed head dead head

Spirits peering downside

Our lady's packing up now

Leaves a laurel on'er lovers brow

Lucky bones beside stones