I’m reeling cod food, reeling tu-
na whose fins are waving; I’m seeing blue.
We dance a reel—fish has a pout-moue,
No, it ain’t fugu.

This take[-off]’s surreal,
This take’s appeal is in the creel.
I’m gonna throw away the hake, back to the sea;
Taste the eel chum, taste and reel.

I’m reeling dog [shark] food, reeling pooch,
Spieling to a lady spilling hooch.
We dance a reel; she gives me a smooch,
So, I lick her brooch.

She makes me feel
In my breech her knee like steel.
And then my wife suspects a bender: “Drunkard, he!”
Spake, her spiel’s done, dazed, I squeal.

She shakes my deal,
Which brakes my squeal, her lover’s feel.
Then I unstow my snake right there for all to see
Shakin’ free love, snakin’ free
Quakin’ me.
This take’s surreal.