Sam Cook, ’26
From Rexhame to Rockport
We’ve touched all the top shores
We just couldn’t want more
Except for the hook
Fried oysters and clams
Subs scarfed on the sand
The summer suns set
Without second look
From north of ol’ Boston
I hope you’re not lost in
The rip tide I left us
Without an escape
Portside sat my knot
But our promise did rot
And we never made it
But will, to the Cape