There's a beach on the far end of town,
That the pretty girls lay on . . .
The children play on . . . in the light of the day.
Pretty lady walks down to the shore at dusk and she stays on
Often 'til day's dawn ... breaks over the bay
One look in her eye and you spy
How she carries a heartache
Heartbreak could be her middle name
At sunset, she raises her glass in a toast to the name of
The late love ... of Miss Donna May
She is known for her kindness as much as her so timeless beauty
A lady of fineness like none he’d encountered before
So, the gentleman walks to the shore
And he sits right beside her
Hoping his smile, her heart he might sway.
She confesses her heart is too broken for what he may intend
But for to be friends, he is welcome to stay
So, friends, they became, they would meet every day on the Bay Shore
Soon, constant companions, though he longed and prayed for more
And so, it went on, Twilight and Dawn
On the bay side
Neither denied his feelings that way
Every sunset, to her fallen love, she'd still raise her glass to.
He'd raise his glass to Miss Donna May
Decades would pass, how he treasured each glass shared beside her
Hair of glistening gold now an elegant silver . . . grey
‘til the day when she walked down alone again
On the wet sand
Seems her old friend had just slipped away
She turns her back to the sunset, and toasts to the name of
The best friend of Miss Donna May
Turns her back to the sunset,
And toasts to the name of
The best friend of . . . and the last love
Of Miss Donna May
This is fiction, based on a story I was told by a lady whose fighter-pilot fiancée was shot down over Vietnam. She said that she used to go to the beach in Pensacola every night, where they used to walk together. Classy lady.