It's About Shrimp

There was once a shrimp in Shrimptown

Who, whilst swimming along one day

Was savaged by a dogfish

That he met along the way.

And when the rest of Shrimptown

Came and saw him where he lay

Each immediately formed an opinion;

Here is what they had to say.

‘Ah, he was a good old shrimp,’

The first said to his wife;

Then he instantly forgot him

And got on with his life.

‘I never liked that bastard,’

Said the second with a grin.

‘I’m glad he’s dead, now let’s go find

A ditch to chuck him in.’

The third said ‘No, my man, that’s not

The way to speak of the dead.’

The second shrimp took umbrage

And then punched him in the head.

And while this brawl continued

A fourth shrimp shared her views:

‘This shrimp has never gone to church

And knelt between the pews.’

‘God rest his soul, of course,

May the Great Codfish spare us all,

But I fear that this unbaptised shrimp

Was always heading for a fall.’

And the congregation nodded

Some there knelt down and prayed;

And when their guilt was laid to rest

Swift exits they all made.

‘For me, I blame the government,’

One shrimp said to his neighbour.

‘They should have helped this poor shrimp out-

Wouldn’t have happened under Labour.’

‘Oh please-it’s not the Government’s fault

That he didn’t get a job

And hung around the streets all day

Behaving like a yob.’

Whilst their bickering continued

They continued to ignore

The body of the savaged shrimp

Which lay upon the floor.

Then a third joined in the argument:

‘It’s the immigrants I blame,

All those bloody cuttlefish

With their silly foreign names.’

A fourth joined in and then a fifth,

From left and right they came,

And their voices blended into one,

All sounding much the same.

Blaming immigrants and hobos,

The slackers and the gimps

And the government who did nothing for

The poor working-class shrimps.

Then one shrimp mentioned Hitler

And that was the final straw;

All the arguers walked from the scene,

Left him lying on the floor.

Just a single shrimp was left now

A wise old shrimp, it seems;

He said ‘Well, chum, I guess that this

Is the end of all your dreams.

No more swimming with the tides,

Or scuttling with your friends.

Although I guess, for all of us,

That’s how it always ends.

No relatives have come for you,

Nobody seems to care

About your life, or death, my friend.

They just leave you lying there,

And talk about your passing

Like one on the silver screen;

Ah friend, you are the saddest shrimp

That I have ever seen.’

With that the old shrimp turned away,

From the shrimp left on floor.

And the ocean’s tides kept sailing on

Just as they had before.