O D E T O
S E A C H A N G E
Each Sunday night, at half past seven
we've been taken to Pearl Bay.
A kind of funny, offbeat heaven,
our worries drift away.
We've laughed at Kevin's innocence
and marvelled at his heart.
Despaired for Jules, but knew that she
was more than just a tart.
Heather's fashions, Karen's passions
for Angus, the force and tying the knot;
We fell in love with Dan, then Max,
the sex appeal: A LOT!
With hank tied around his neck
he was more than just mere man;
He fished/cooked/danced into our hearts,
but we said vaya con dios to Dan.
Darling Angus, the surfy clerk,
we'll miss his in-court ways;
his love for Karen grew and grew,
but nothing changed his waves.
We've loved and hated Sergeant Grey,
felt poor Jack's despair,
Cried for Carmen's baby girl
and laughed at Craig's "gay hair".
Big bad Bobby Jelly,
the story of his life,
Bushy eyebrows, big ideas,
undeserving of his wife.
Heather will always iron shirts
better than Barry the "teapot".
Prahni's curry, always delicious,
but for Kev, that bit too hot.
Goodbye to Rupe, and Trevor, too,
now your acne's not too bad!
Keep your innocence, and the "Park",
just like Kev, your dad.
We've admired wise Miranda,
to her not much is unknown,
her passion, brains and gorgeous smile
could run the Oyster on their own.
We'll miss Simmo, Sid and even Bucket,
who we never got to see;
Griff, almost a homeowner,
and even disastrous Trudy.
Laura's strange neurotic ways
that made us love her more,
mother, lover, ex, sister, judge,
what's not to adore?
Poor sweet Warrick Munroe
so nice but, oh, so boring.
Thank God, Max saved her from a life
of flowers, dishes and snoring.
Max's hair and baby blues
emerging from the sea.
One thing'll be hard to live without,
hearing "How'd you be?"
We'll remember most, but not as much
as Meredith Monahan.
Pearl Bay's oldest, along with Hal,
but die? Don't think she can.
The pier, the pub, and Braby Point
don't go there in the dark.
The beachside shack, with fishing hole,
they have all left their mark
We've dreamt about Pearl Bay
and loved that far-off town,
now we know the song is true,
The warmest faces do stand round.
Laura, we don't think you're mad at all,
well, p'haps a bit, but you don't care.
If it feels good, do it - at last you've found
the smell of salty air.
So goodbye, all you crazies,
there are no more shows to do.
The last pearl falls, and you should know
that we've loved knowing you.
by Isabel Robinson
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