Fishy Poems by Max Flatchen

I wonder at the jellyfish

That like to drift and drowse

And seem to wear without a care

A kind of see-through blouse.

A fish had remarked to a chip,

‘unless we give them the slip,

When the fat starts to fry

I’m afraid it’s goodbye

And it won’t be a very nice trip.’

A hungry shark some bathers eyed,

His wife said in the spray,

‘How would you like your food, my dear,

Eat here or takeaway?’

by Max Fatchen

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