by Mike Pennell
I’m only a poor little crab
and I don’t harm a soul in my lair;
Then I’m tempted with bait,
Oh, my oath – it’s too late,
didn’t see that damned hook hanging there.
Now I’ve honed a sharp edge on my claws,
and the next time I see a kid’s line,
I shall nip it in half
and sit back with a laugh,
for the victory, this time, is MINE.
I’m gathering up all my mates,
waging war on those kids up above;
If we cut off their hooks
we may get some harsh looks
(I just wish we could give them a shove).
If a youngster fell into the water
(and we certainly don't wish him drowned)
Just a nip here and there
on the bits that were bare,
before he got back on dry ground.
I’m sure it would stop all this hassle,
and leave us in peace for a change;
a wet deck keeps them in,
a day’s rain, and we win!
I’m sure the Met boys could arrange!!
