It starts with that bouncy, unmistakable intro. You know the one. It sounds like salt air and boardwalk fudge. Even if you aren't from the Mid-Atlantic, the melody feels like a memory you somehow inherited from a grandparent who wore high-waisted swim trunks and drank Miller High Life on a sand dune. The song is "On the Way to Cape May," and if you've ever spent a summer south of Atlantic City, the words to On the Way to Cape May are basically etched into your DNA.
But here’s the thing. Most people actually get the history wrong. They think it’s a Frank Sinatra tune or maybe a Dean Martin B-side because of that easy, lounge-singer swagger. It’s not. It’s a local anthem that somehow escaped the confines of South Jersey and became a standard for anyone who loves the kitschy, wonderful nostalgia of the American coastline.
Where did these lyrics even come from?
The story of the song is actually a bit of a localized legend. It wasn't written by a Nashville hitmaker or a Tin Pan Alley giant. It was written by a guy named Maurice "Buddy" Nugent. Honestly, Buddy was just a guy who loved the shore. He wrote it in the mid-20th century, but it didn't really explode until the legendary Al Alberts—of The Four Aces fame—started performing it.
If you grew up in the Philadelphia or South Jersey area, Al Alberts was a god. He had The Al Alberts Showcase on TV, and he sang those words to On the Way to Cape May with a sincerity that made you believe every single syllable. The song follows a very specific geographic path. It’s basically a musical GPS for the Garden State Parkway.
The Geography of the Song
The lyrics aren't just random rhymes about the beach. They are a literal roadmap.
"We strolled along the Boardwalk in Ocean City... we went to Sea Isle City."
Think about that. The song maps out the transition from the family-friendly, dry-town vibes of Ocean City down through the shifting sands of Sea Isle, Avalon, and Stone Harbor. It’s a travelogue. Most people singing along at a bar in Wildwood don't even realize they are reciting a coastal survey. It’s kind of brilliant in its simplicity.
The song captures a very specific moment in time. The 1950s and early 60s were the golden age of the Jersey Shore. This was before cheap airfare made Florida the go-to. If you lived in Philly, Camden, or Wilmington, Cape May was the end of the world. It was the Victorian crown jewel. The lyrics reflect that sense of a journey, a "Sentimental Journey" if you will, but with more salt spray and less train smoke.
✨ Don't miss: Bob Hearts Abishola Season 4 Explained: The Move That Changed Everything
Why the lyrics stick (even when they're cheesy)
Let’s be real. Some of the lines are pure schmaltz. "I'm in a flurry, we're in a hurry." It’s not Dylan. It’s not Kendrick Lamar. But it doesn't have to be.
The words to On the Way to Cape May work because they use specific place names. In songwriting, specificity is the secret sauce for longevity. When you mention "Stone Harbor," you aren't just mentioning a town; you're mentioning a specific smell of bay water and the sight of the Seven Mile Island bridge.
The song also hits on a universal theme: the summer romance.
"You're the girl I've been dreaming of."
It’s simple. It’s sweet. It’s about that feeling of driving down Route 9 or the Parkway with the windows down—before AC was standard in every car—and feeling the humidity change as you get closer to the Cape May Point lighthouse.
The Al Alberts Connection and the Philly Sound
You can't talk about these lyrics without talking about the Philadelphia music scene of the mid-century. This was the era of Dick Clark’s American Bandstand and the "Sound of Philadelphia." While the song itself leans more toward the "Great American Songbook" style than R&B, it shares that same polished, earnest production.
Al Alberts’ version is the one that stuck. He had this way of phrasing the words—almost like he was telling you a secret over a shrimp cocktail at The Lobster House. When he sings about being "on the way," he’s not talking about a commute. He’s talking about a pilgrimage.
🔗 Read more: Black Bear by Andrew Belle: Why This Song Still Hits So Hard
For many families, singing the words to On the Way to Cape May became a ritual. It was the "we’re almost there" song. You’d hit the Somers Point circle, someone would pop the tape in (or later, the CD), and by the time you reached the Wildwood Crest, everyone was belt-screaming the chorus.
Common Misconceptions and Lyrical Tweaks
One of the funniest things about this song is how people mishear the lyrics. Because it’s often sung in crowded bars or at weddings after a few too many drinks, the "Ocean City" line frequently gets garbled.
And then there are the cover versions.
Cosmo "The Latin Lowlife" Allegretti and various mummers bands have taken a crack at it. Each one adds a little different flavor. The Mummers, in particular, have turned it into a strutting masterpiece. If you haven't seen a man in a 50-pound sequined feathered suit dancing to these lyrics on Broad Street on New Year’s Day, you haven't truly lived.
There's also a persistent rumor that the song was written for a specific girl in Cape May. While Buddy Nugent certainly had muses, the song is more of a love letter to the coastline itself than any one individual. It’s about the collective "her"—the Jersey Shore in July.
The Breakdown of the Verse Structure
The song doesn't follow a modern verse-chorus-verse-chorus-bridge-chorus structure. It’s more of a linear narrative.
- The Departure: Setting the scene.
- The Progress: Checking off the towns (Ocean City, Sea Isle, etc.).
- The Destination: Arriving at the "Cape."
- The Emotional Payoff: Realizing that the journey was just as good as the arrival.
This linear progression is why it’s so satisfying to sing. It feels like you’re actually moving. It’s a rhythmic representation of a drive south.
💡 You might also like: Billie Eilish Therefore I Am Explained: The Philosophy Behind the Mall Raid
Is it still relevant in 2026?
You’d think a song this old would have faded into the background. It hasn't.
Walk into the Ugly Mug on Washington Street in Cape May on a Saturday night. Wait for the band to take a break or for the jukebox to hit a lull. When those first few notes of "On the Way to Cape May" kick in, the room changes. 20-somethings who weren't even born when Al Alberts passed away know the words.
Why? Because the Jersey Shore is built on a foundation of "the way things used to be." We like our boardwalks wooden, our pizza thin, and our songs old-fashioned. The words to On the Way to Cape May provide a bridge between the generations. It’s a way for a kid in 2026 to connect with the version of the shore their great-grandparents loved.
It’s also surprisingly popular in the "Parrothead" subculture. While it’s not a Jimmy Buffett song, it fits that "escapism via salt water" vibe perfectly. It’s a song about leaving your troubles in North Jersey or Philly and heading to the point where the Delaware Bay meets the Atlantic Ocean.
How to learn the lyrics (The right way)
If you’re going to learn the words to On the Way to Cape May, don't just read a lyric sheet. Listen to the Al Alberts version first. Pay attention to his timing.
- The "Ocean City" stanza: Make sure you hit the "strolled" with a bit of a drawl.
- The town list: Don't rush it. Each town deserves its moment. Sea Isle, Avalon, Stone Harbor. If you skip one, a local might actually correct you.
- The ending: The finale is all about the "Cape." Give it some vibrato.
The song is essentially a musical hug. It’s not meant to be technically perfect. It’s meant to be communal. It’s a song for the car, for the shower, and for the bar at 1:00 AM when you’re feeling nostalgic for the smell of salt air and vinegar fries.
Actionable Steps for your Next Shore Trip
- Create a "Cape May" Playlist: Start with the Al Alberts version, then find the Mummers' string band version. It’ll change your driving mood instantly.
- The Literal Tour: Next time you’re heading down, actually stop in the towns mentioned. Have a slice in Ocean City, a drink in Sea Isle, and walk the beach in Stone Harbor before hitting the Washington Street Mall.
- Check the Archives: If you’re in Cape May, visit the Emlen Physick Estate or the local historical society. They often have bits and pieces of local musical history that explain just how deep the "Buddy" Nugent legacy goes.
- Sing it Loud: Honestly, the best way to honor the song is to just sing it. Don't worry about being off-key. The song was written for the people, not for the critics.
The next time you find yourself crossing the bridge into Cape May, remember that you aren't just arriving at a destination. You’re becoming part of a song that’s been playing for over seventy years. Enjoy the flurry, don't be in too much of a hurry, and keep those windows down.