When Shell Is Full the Fish Will Walk the Earth

A Poem

When Shell Is Full the Fish Will Walk the Earth

The fish-men walk. It’s sure a treacherous sight,
To see a hundred tuna on the tread,
Traipsing around on fins, it just ain’t right,
I aim to obliterate. I’ll see they’re dead.
Hook em’ on rod and reel in my sedan,
Throwing the bait right through the driver window,
I’ll drag em’ in, tire em’ out, then BAM!
Rack and a blast, and Missus Fish is widowed.
Buckshot between the gills gets em’ dead quick,
Just give a little line then let it rip,
You pop their tops and fry em’ real crisp
To make a plate of fish-men fish and chips.
    I sure as shrimp sailed seven seas of sin,
    I’ve krilled before and I will krill again.

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