The Oyster and The Whelk

Said the oyster, ”Do please tell, Mr Whelk, your curly shell;

I’m intrigued as to how you got these whirls.

Ours have such an ugly skin, though the beauty lies within;

Every now and then we manufacture pearls."

 

Said the whelk, “It isn’t clever, it takes patience and endeavour,

To accommodate my fast expanding figure.

I build a new extension, with an increasing dimension,

So every year it gets a little bigger.”

 

It was at the dégustation, they exchanged this information,

Just before I slipped them down my throat.

Less salty was the oyster, though considerably moister;

Perhaps a touch more lemon juice I thought.

◄ Pasta

The Freckleton Air Disaster ►

Comments

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Peter R White

Fri 13th Aug 2010 15:13

A lip-smacking little poem. Very tasty.

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winston plowes

Thu 12th Aug 2010 22:03

Good fun this one Dave. Tight finish. Win

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