Beachcomber

BEACHCOMBER You comb the beaches Detailed to the inches At least you might be fortunate To get even a wanton mate Your line you carry You look like one in hurry But your eyes are sharp Ready to the unlucky one map The bait is appetizing Drooping with mock rejoicing But microbes it sports Found in promiscuous ports But sailors on it fall And purge their worries -- all After paying the toll Then you automatically smoke them over the rack With ss behind your bare back You examine your levy And say, They die of envy Your heart is never heavy But your speech is wavy