Imagine a porpoise wallowing in the mud.

Mother calls him in for brunch.

She's serving a large platter of ham and turtle eggs.

The supermarket had a special on turtle eggs last week.

The porpoise eats heartily

Although it never really gets that far.

He left his heart, as the song sings, in San Francisco

And he hasn't had a chance to go back for it.

He learned a lot from that trip:

Mainly, that a trip is better than a fall

And a fall better than a winter.

There's no winter mud‑wallowing for hungry porpoises.

In the fall everything seems to brighten

Because, you see, a porpoise in the fall

Has no trouble wallowing his way

Into a delicious trip to San Francisco.