You cast your rod and reeled me in.
We went to a special plaice
and perched on a rock
by the sea in whales.
You asked if I believed in cod.
I said yes and knew we were solemates.
You could sense I was koi
but didn’t flounder,
soon showing me your winkles.
I showed you my crabs.
It was in the days
mullets were all the rage.
You looked brill in your herring bone suit,
kipper tie and salmon suede shoes.
I felt your mussels.
You could see I was terning red
and likely to clam up,
so you gave me a coddle
and took me to the ‘Old Trout Pub’.
They were all singing
‘Roll Out The Barracudas’.
I like a tuna two. I said,
‘Get me a large one and for goodness hake
fillet to the top’.
There was a man in the corner
playing the bass, meloncoley,
being mobbed by a grouper.
The pub was full of hardy fishermen
except one little shrimp
who was in the corner whaling.
‘A loan shark too all me money’, he carped.
I trawled the bar for his mates.
One said, ‘He does it on porpoise
every Saturday. Eel be alright
if you give him six squid’.
So we did. He was such a happy sole.
He came right out of his shell.
He said he was local
yet he looked a tadpolish.
‘Oyster come here as a kid’, he said.
"But now I'm a hermit."
We pondered if he was right in the head.
Then the disco started playing
The Subreams.
We were packed in like sardines
when the conga struck up.
The line sea-snaked right around
Barb the barmaid. She got crabby
and was angling to hook someone out.
She cast her eyes around,
spotting the Crayfish brothers.
‘Oh, not those aholeholes,’
She didn’t like goby people so
she ran the otter way.
Then some silly sprat knocked
you haddock hotpot off the table
and was spotted moray less
straightaway by the pub's
cat Octo Puss.
You said, ‘pollocks’,
let’s go while we’re able.
FIN
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