I bought a shovel and a sand pail
A red polka-dotted kite.
Looks just like a ladybug
I'm gonna fly it high.
We leave home in the morning
Can't wait to wave goodbye.
There's no place like home
Or so I've been told
And who knows, maybe they're right
But the beach shore sounds nice.
We'll have a cooler full of Kool-Aid
And stuff I ain't supposed to drink
White bread bologna picnics
All the Cheetos I can eat.
We leave home in the morning.
Hey, I call the window seat!
There's no place like home
Or so I've been told
And who knows, maybe they're right
But the beach shore sounds nice.
Heard tale of dollars in the ocean
That wash up in the sand.
Like pirate ships at night-time
No telling where they'll land.
And I bet I find a hundred
But ten good ones ought to do
To buy a tie-day t-shirt
A hermit crab or two.
We leave home in the morning.
Wait, did I pack my shoes?
Oh well, I don't need 'em.
They're just somethin' else to lose.
There's no place like home
Or so I've been told
And who knows, maybe they're right
But the beach shore sounds nice.
Before I lay down on my pillow
I’ll say a prayer tonight
To be first on the surfboard
And the last who gets to ride.
We leave home in the morning.
Can’t wait to wave goodbye.
There’s no place like home
Or so I’ve been told
And who knows, maybe they're right
But the beach shore sounds nice.
Yeah, the beach shore sounds nice.
*I wrote this poem in 2021 after seeing children playing on Panama City Beach in Florida. It brought back memories of hunting sand dollars and shells with my niece many, many years ago.