That lighthouse on Tybee Island
Shines the river to Savannah
Where those old duelling pianos
Stomp Georgia rock blues all night long
I’ll ride the Amtrak from New York
To get me where I long to be
Way down south back to Savannah
On the riverboat in Tybee,
With a bowlful of shrimp and grits,
Fried green tomatoes on the side,
Some ice cold IPA to drink,
Then play stud poker as we ride.
Will I ever go back again,
The way things are, without the planes,
There is no way to live my dreams,
Locked down? Locked up is how it seems,
Still the light shines bright gleaming beams,
To guide us all back to Tybee.

Harry Rogers, in the Yellow Room, 2nd March 2021