I miss my trusty Kris Kraft
That itsy bitsy skiff
With topsiders and chinos
Freshly pressed and stiff
And sometimes when I'm landlocked
And yearning for the sea
I get into my bathtub
Indulge my reverie
For the quickest silver
We rode this all of me
We look so very civilized
In shocking pink and green
And what about the beach club
On Wednesday afternoon
The ladies clucking lowly
Like enemy platoons