I write poems every so often; this one I wrote in bed the other night. It started out for kids and my son said it was a laughter one.

Fred Fillet Fish

Fred was a little fish,
Who swam out in the sea
How he could grow to be so big,
Was a mystery to me

If Fred was swimming in a school,
And a worm hung overhead,
There was never any care by him,
To see the worm lay dead.

With spotting of the baited hook,
The worm an inviting lunch,
Fred puffed himself up to show a whale
Then took the dangerous crunch

Fred gave one gulp and with a jerk,
Into the boat was hauled.
Fred always managed to escape,
When he was said, "TOO SMALL"

So keep in mind, next supper time,
if fish be on your plate,
That on the shores of Newfoundland,
Fred finally met his fate.


Dedicated to all the fine fishermen of Newfoundland
Who spend all their lives fishing to put fish on our supper tables.
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