~ Across the Shifting Sands ~

 To wade water through Kent,

Across Morecambe bay we went,

Four miles to traverse,

Treacherous ever shifting land,

Right may be quick sinking sand,

Left trouble needs a helping hand,

Avoiding all the muddles,

Carefree jumping, numerous puddles,

Golden sands, whistling windy sounds,

Cockle shells scattered all around,

Bare feet, fine warm sand,

Cross brief receded land,

Crossing faith in ones guide,

Navigate with one at your side.