Mariecor Ruediger

Beacon, beacon, lonesome on a hill__aves run aground, pound __ound, what a thrill!Water water everywhere crashes,Shore__ not lazy for it mashes, bashes_..Summer__ when tourists traipse o__r to see you,Offering to wipe-wash your dust and mildew;Summer painters place you with dinghy and gull,Historians have you as subject o__r which to mull.When feline Fog drifts gently or is heavy, Your bright light__ followed by boat bevy;And during those calm, clear days and nightsYou__e that upright nautical dream exciting tiny tykes.

Mystique saturates, gluts the air,Adventure__ even more than rare,Excitement__ everywhere to share,And Novelty__ beyond compare.