The sand was not good enough for building castles, so they said.
Something to do with the roughness of the grains.
Every time we built one, it collapsed, driving us mad.
And then he came. A silent boy, just carrying his spade.
He was from Germany, and blonde. He had a very German name.
Each time a grown up spoke to him, he bowed, he often shook ones hand.
His brother wore some Lederhosen that would shine.
He didn’t speak with us, but started digging early in the day,
and by the time ‘t was noon, revealed what he had made.
It was a castle like we never saw before.
It was so fine! We were amazed. We lost our speech.
His glory didn’t last for long; the tide came and his castle washed away.
But from that day, he was the master of the beach.
Unlike the brother in his Lederhosen that would shine.