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.