THE GOOD OL' EASTERN SHORE
Many years ago (slightly more than thirty-two),
Donna and I and our four children took, by
car, a very long trip from Maryland to Utah.
Although the following poem was not written
in conjunction with Our Great Western Trek,
it speaks of our starting point, and of a place
we loved and love so well, still.
THE GOOD OL' EASTERN SHORE
We know of a place
With a gentle pace
A land we truly adore
Where the food's first-rate
And the hospitality's great
'Tis a land called the Eastern Shore
In between the ocean and the bay
Where sea gulls frolic and sand crabs play
There's a land you ought to explore
Where sea shells sell
And quiescent folks dwell
'Tis on the good ol' Eastern Shore
The beaches are sandy
Ah, the fishing is dandy
Who'd ask for anything more
Come bask in the sun
Where the living is fun
On the good ol' Eastern Shore
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