Listen to this lobster tale,
it's like no one that you have heard;
unless you have, then I'd be wrong,
but let's not think about that -- no,
let's not think about that.
Lester Lobster lived for weeks
in a tank at We-Sea-Food,
until I ordered lobster tail
which signaled Lester's death -- yes,
it signaled Lester's death.
A cold hand reached into the tank,
grabbed Lester rudely with a yank,
his hopes of harbor life soon sank,
replaced by harbor death,
which was not his hope, I'd guess --
death was not his hope.
A knife came down on Lester's back,
his upper section was removed,
but he lived on with claws and head,
until they chopped those up as well --
chopped them up as well.
As I tied my bib on tight,
then stabbed at lobster tail meat,
a thought occurred about the loss
of Lester Lobster's life.
When the meat was in my mouth --
I knew I'd kill again.
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Author Notes
Image from Google
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