I don't think that I'd like to live there, Too many steps to the top. No corners to park naughty children, A light that will never stop. Fog that rolls in calls for non-pointed horns, Warns sailors but wakes lookers on. Sea-spray and salt coat both precious and poor, corroding and rusting 'till gone. A lighthouse in name, it's massive and tall, Concrete and steel aren't light. Not fit for a family to call it a home, A house where I'll not spend a night.