Fish
It's a bleak lookout
when the largemouth bass
and the humpback
flounder
over the common cod fax.
It smelt.
And the smooth hounds
have their little dabs on it.
And they carp:
"It's brill!"
What a bunch of lumpsuckers,
kippers,
cheapskate
threshers around, trying
to get themselves off the hook.
If you sell your shoal,
if you perch high
on your seahorse,
it's plain as a pike:
you're a brown meagre.
The plaice man waits
for the cod's wallop.
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