The bottles remain from last night,
But the drinkers, somewhere, out of sight.
Our good collectors are on shift now,
Later children will be safe and sound.
And maybe the parents will stop and shout
‘Clean up your mess while you’re about!’
‘You’re not the center of this town,
What would you do without mother around!’
The child like play from last night
Left bottles and bottles to the end of sight,
Making one really big and messy room,
Like never seen in a month of moons.
I guess the mothers were not there,
With the drunkards on easy chairs,
As if the beach were made, for just one night,
For drunkards only, to have the right,
For if they only, had to bear,
Responsibility of keeping the lair,
People would then stop coming around,
And the greatest beach would be out of town.
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