Come gather 'round, people. To beaches, let's roam
and admit that the waters with all of their foam
are accepting us soon, to be drenched to the bone.
If all of you, this message is reachin'
then you'd better start swimmin' or I'll think that you're stoned
for these times, they're for a-beachin'.

Come riders of Tilt-a-Whirls and boardwalk train.
And buy up your tickets, the chance came again.
And don't speak too soon, for the ride's still in spin
and there's no tellin' who will be screechin'.
For to let this chance go would be such a great sin
for these times, they're for a-beachin'.

Come Senators, Congressmen, please heed the call:
Head out on Route 50, with Washington's all
and the Baltimore folks, hope their cars aren't stalled.
To Ocean City, no more with leechin'.
Or perhaps to Rehoboth, Delaware you might fall
for these times, they're for a-beachin'.

Come mothers and fathers, through New England:
The love of a summer, I know you'll understand.
Your sons and your daughters, they'll all hit the sand.
On the Cape or the Vineyard, beseechin'.
Or Mystic or the New- or the Kennebunkport
for these times, they're for a-beachin'.

The line is drawn, for fish it is cast.
The boats that you pilot, they may just be fast.
So hit Coney Island, as they did in the past.
And that Wildwood girl, I'd be peachin'
for each minute of this day, if she'll give me the last
for these times, they're for a-beachin'!