POEM TITLE
A Hungry Lobster
POEM
A HUNGRY LOBSTER’S PLIGHT
(By Bayard S, June, 2022)
Yes, I’m a fat lobster with a large shark’s appetite,
And I got tired of scrounging the sea for my food.
Near Blackness on the Sea, I could find a wee bite,
But I snuck up on dry land for morsels less chewed.
There’s an inn nearby to the Blackness Castle,
It’s called The Lobster Pot but they serve Fishes too.
Out back there’s a bucket with a lid that’s a hassle,
But with my long claws I reached my favourite fondue.
And what did I see lumped in the tin pail?
Several large portions of sea food left uneaten.
Perhaps finicky diners were in a hurry to sail,
Or they had sea sicken appetites, a tad weather-beaten?
In my Lobster Pot paradise awaited salmon and fish fingers,
But still I searched with a wee bit of the jitters.
I knew a perilous plight awaits a thief who lingers,
But I just had to gorge on pan-fried Haggis Fritters.
I remember hearing music, fine Scottish Folk singing,
One loud diner’s voice sounded like a steel drum,
Inside my food chamber, the pot’s sides were ringing,
I guess that was why I didn’t hear what was to come.
You see, I was in food heaven at the bottom of the pail,
When the inn’s chef came outside for a break, I suppose.
Suddenly it felt like I was in the midst of a gale,
I’m hoisted sky high and put under a hose.
What I saw in her left hand did gave me a shock,
A shiny large cleaver held ready for a hack.
In one swift movement I’m on a flat wood block
I sensed the cleaver falling, at my lower back.
But I managed to squirm and she missed my tail,
And she let go of my carapace in surprise I believe.
I dropped to the gravel and she let out a wail,
Seeing me fumble and scrabble as I took my leave.
So today I sadly scour the dingy sea bed,
Eating only half of my usual meals for the day.
A one-clawed survivor who’s darn lucky he fled,
Bet my right claw was tasty served on the pub’s metal tray.
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