Hey, what about all that they ate

As fillets of us filled their plate

They’d gobble, enjoying each bite

Unaware of our personal plight

That schools now of Finger Mark Bream

And Queenfish and Snapper are grim.

There’s a Kingdom of Neptune Alert

That a guy in a checked flannel shirt

Has buttered some nice crusty bread 

And with it he serves, it is said,

A bouillabaisse fishysoisse soup

Just full of the weak of our group

Who moved through the oceans too slow

And spotting his lure, had a go.

We’ve notified Mackeral from Spain,

(We’ve warned them again and again)

To shun every sight of his line

Lest they be invited to dine.

They eat us with lemon and chips 

(That batter will broaden their hips!)

They’ll BBQ up a few more,

Wasabi our Tuna fish, raw.

Then homeward these gluttons will wend

And message to Neptune will send

“Well, thanks you’re an excellent host – 

But nothing beats mother’s lamb roast.’


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