Those are my fingers,
That is my nose,
Where was l heading?
Nobody knows.
Wrecked once or twice,
But l'm still a float,
Still all at sea,
Still sat in my boat.
No l'm not fishing,
Just bobbing around,
Dodging the day,
When I'll run aground.
It's not unexpected,
It won't be a shock,
An old wreck just laid there,
It could be your rock.
Beach Buoy.
Paul.
