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There was a small boy of Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck;
When they said, “Are you friz?”
He replied, “Yes, I is—
But we don’t call this cold in Quebec,
and ... Oh what the heck, I win😃
If dishes were fishes they'd lick the plates clean
Needing no water in basins to rinse per routine
To get rid of all traces of gravy 'n' poutine
Not that I'm a lover of such French fried spuds
But I needed a rhyme or this poem'd be a dud.
And dishes are doozies, the doing, the mess
I really detest them I freely confess.
Much rather I'd have fishes swimming in my sink
To ponder and muse on and help myself think
Of the mysteries profound and the awe life us brinks
Instead of dishes piled up and causing a stink.
To go swimming with fishes - of mammalian species
Is dreamed of by many and this ain't no deliracy!
Nor drummed up by those in the making of seaspiracies
To lay bare the horror of fishy atrocities
Oh, no, so I'm told these dear fishies do bear
All manner of discomfit empowered to snare
Their flesh although scaly and meat bony within
There still are those, yes! Who with fish long to swim.
And just think of it, fam, if dishes were fishes
The delicacies beyond even outlandish wishes
Would be served up daily alongside spud knishes
Though caviar and sushi they'd sure hope were bishes!
There was a small boy of Quebec,
Who was buried in snow to his neck;
When they said, “Are you friz?”
He replied, “Yes, I is—
But we don’t call this cold in Quebec,
and ... Oh what the heck, I win😃
If dishes were fishes they'd lick the plates clean
Needing no water in basins to rinse per routine
To get rid of all traces of gravy 'n' poutine
Not that I'm a lover of such French fried spuds
But I needed a rhyme or this poem'd be a dud.
And dishes are doozies, the doing, the mess
I really detest them I freely confess.
Much rather I'd have fishes swimming in my sink
To ponder and muse on and help myself think
Of the mysteries profound and the awe life us brinks
Instead of dishes piled up and causing a stink.
To go swimming with fishes - of mammalian species
Is dreamed of by many and this ain't no deliracy!
Nor drummed up by those in the making of seaspiracies
To lay bare the horror of fishy atrocities
Oh, no, so I'm told these dear fishies do bear
All manner of discomfit empowered to snare
Their flesh although scaly and meat bony within
There still are those, yes! Who with fish long to swim.
And just think of it, fam, if dishes were fishes
The delicacies beyond even outlandish wishes
Would be served up daily alongside spud knishes
Though caviar and sushi they'd sure hope were bishes!
Thank you! That was spontaneously written by me back in... (goes
to check ) April of this year I was riffing off of something Oblio had
said; he has since left us, though he returned for a while as joecoten.
Thank you! That was spontaneously written by me back in... (goes
to check ) April of this year I was riffing off of something Oblio had
said; he has since left us, though he returned for a while as joecoten.