‘Cause rotting in the sun, fish smelt so bad

I plaiced a tarpon a dead dogfish.

Don’t like to give my cat fish.

But since she was sniffin’ round,

I tossed a chunk of haddock to Puss.

When I had time to mullet Dover,

I snook a look, just for the halibut.

My guts began to flounder.

Never sawfish look so crappie!

Since I was near a bar ah coulda,

Put t’ rout my heaving gorge,

Drinkin’ beer til ah pee a bit.

Such was my strongest urgin’.

Didn’t do it on porpoise.

I’m hard of herring, atrophied of mussel,

And as Cod’s my wetness,

Blind as a small-mouth bass turd.

For calling Phil A. Aswhole,

Got a sculpin stuck in my head.

Tried to buy some coke ‘n he

Had some shnook gimme a sock I

Didn’t see coming.

Had Paul Lock fish it out,

With his orca straw’s pike.

The one he waves to conduct

“I’ll Take Menhaden.”

“Bream When You’re Feeling Bluefish.”

“Blennies from Heaven,”

“Salmon Chanted Evening,”

“Me and My Shad Roe” and

“The Boogie Woogie Bluegill Boy.”

O No! Nearly forgot “Tuna yet? Tuna Yet?”

From “The Wet Side’s Dory”

Sung by Lou Trawls, with some grouper other.

His biggest char buster since

 “Trolling Down the Reefer.”

When I graduated from high school in Spain,

We marched to Lock’s

Orcastral recording of

“Pompano Circumstance,”

By Eduardo El Gar.

Lock’s a little shrimp

Just sardine out in podnership with

Ann Jovi, Finn & Haddy.

Billed me six squid.

But…Aw, he’s to me the Manatee Hour!

No taxis in the cabby zone

So we hadda limpet home, 

But nautilus’d been shad on

By a gull, my mortal anemone.

Tried to spear ‘im but he

Went off at a scallop.

“Wahoo!” Mm my w-w-w-wife like to

Laugh turbot off.

 (Excuse me, I tender st-st-otter a tad,

Polish being my first lingo.)

Threatened to croaker—

I only manta rays

A noise ter clam her up.

If I smack ‘er I’ll be guilty

Of spousal mollusk station.

If you see any more res absurdis,

With which this crock abalone

Could congergate,

Let minnow.

Walleye think it’s time to reel ‘em up.

Snagged a few keepers;

Thresher otter be scuttled!

Mus’ key off now.

Sky’s misting gray.

Betta quit,

If you’ll permit.

I gotta guppy.