O to be at Kirra Beach, Swimming in the surf, Baking on the golden sand, Or scruffing on the turf.
O to run up Kirra Hill
Beneath his flashing smile, Or to walk along the sand
With him beside me all the while.
O to skate around the rink
Holding tight his hand,
Or just to sit and watch him skate. His skating was so grand.
O to climb up Razorback
To watch the setting sun,
And feel his first kiss on my lips. Who’d ever be a nun?
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