Go for tuna
In your schooner.
This fish is very delish.
I wish this dish
I had—capish?
Chunks of chum splat
In yon bait vat.
In the blue sea I see ’em.
They’ll lose freedom,
Then we’ll eat ’em;
I wouldn’t want to be ’em.

Albacore is
My adored dish;
This fish I itch to rotiss.
Hands are callused
Like my phallus
From pulling so hard on this
Rod—ya gotta
If from water,
The deep and briny abyss,
You will pull ’em. . .
Coolers, full ’em,
Drink beer, veer and take a piss.

In bliss, don’t miss
The bowl; a hiss
From the mate, an aria
Of great disgust
Will then be thrust
From his lungs; much merrier
Will be our hours
If pee powers
Have a pot proclivity.
Got a quorum?
Let’s go for ’em—
Shed your impassivity!