I made sandcastles here as a lad.

I’ve walked and ran with the dogs,

Faced the rain and the blustering winds,

Dozed in the summer sun,

And beachcombed.

 

When I die, burn my body like a Viking God

And bring my ashes to the sands.

When the tide turns and the wind blows hard

Then empty my remains.

Let the wind take them across the waves;

And watch while the sea foams.

 

Though blind I'll smell the sea smell

And though deaf I’ll hear the sea birds squawk.

And when the wind whips up the sand

It’ll sting my legs no more

But I’ll wave a ghostly hand at all that I was,

And the sands my spirit will roam.