Because you know, I’m all about that plaice.
Trout? No, plaice! Get ready.
I’m all about that plaice. Rock[fish] steady?
Nope, all about that plaice.

In place for weirs I can eye a few,
I won’t forsake ’em, take ’em, reel ’em, line like clew.
I don’t need no boom-boom to blast ’em apace—
pumped pecs put piscine pussies through paces.
My storage magazine is where they drop with “kerplop”:
I stick ’em in with zeal
till it’s filled to the top.
I get some beauties—for sup, cut ’em right up,
give the ripped-off skin to my purr pet
as a little kitty sop.
On ichthyologistic mission: fishin’ for a prize. . .
filament’s intromission where swim squid—I feel alright,
like when I got take a slick picture of myself and, that’s all.
But it’s fins that I’m into;
“Summer Plaice” is my favorite song.

Because you know, I’m all about that plaice,
’pout? No, plaice! I’m ready.
I squall about that plaice, sans ending. . . .
I’m bringing my booty back,
frickin’ fisher full of finny delish, yay!
Set for filleting. . .good omega-3 fat,
that for me is where it’s at.
Keep it away from my purr pet,
who might seek the tabletop;
gotta keep that filchin’ feline from pilfering the prize—
give ’im silver skin for lickin’, maybe flick him a bite
projected from my fishy finger
in gefilte-like ball/in fish fit kitty crawls.
Finless din-din I’m into—
can’t chew on those fins—they’re too strong.

Because you know, I’m all about that plaice,
’bout that plaice! It’s endless,
repeated lines ’bout plaice—relentless. . . .