|ODE TO A WORM
a thought, when you venture out to sea
for all my relatives, and of course, me!
We have to sit wrapped in the 'fridge all night,
'til the wind and the tides are all just right.
While he sits back, enjoying his capers,
we can only read the old newspapers.
We're poked about, while he has a good look
and then, "Oh! No!" here comes the big hook.
We don't bite and wriggle, just to please him;
we're b****y terrified, because we can't swim!
He's going for the big one, he's got everything right.
He's doing all he can.
But of course, the fish are not going to bite,
When I'm lying on the bottom shouting, "FRYING PAN!"