It was Christmas Eve, babe,
In the fish tank.
A crayfish said to me, won't see another one.
And then he sang a song,
'The Old Bay Seasoning”.
I dreamed of the beach, babe,
And got to reasoning.
I'm gonna have some fun
‘Cos I’m the lucky one.
I’m the last in this line
And near the water.
‘Cos “Happy Christmas”
Means lots of greeting,
And lots more eating,
So for us it just means slaughter.
If I walk like a man
And carry a fan,
Then I can stay cool
Between surf-line and pool.
'Cos if I get spotted
Too far up the shore,
It’s only drawn butter
That’s waiting for me.
You were red!
I was blue,
I looked nothing like you!
I got out of the water
Before it was hot.
The chef’s knife was swinging,
The hash it was slinging,
So we nipped round a corner
And into the night.
Now the lads who go out fishing
With their nets in Galway Bay
Have all returned to port
For Christmas Day.
You’re a shrimp!
You’re a wimp!
You’ll evolve to a chimp,
Lying there like a crab or a cod on a slab!
You look like an oyster!
You couldn’t be moister
If it rained all the way from your face to your arse!
But the lads who do the fishing
From those boats on Galway Bay
Have docked beside the pier
On Christmas Day.
You could be quite a dish,
But so would any fish,
With lots of flavoured creams
Piped all around you.
I’d rather swim, babe,
Deep in the sea, babe,
Just you and me, babe,
We'll keep well clear of Mayo.
And the lads who'd be out fishing
In their boats on Galway Bay
Are at home and getting drunk
This Christmas Day.
Here's the original - warning, contains Language, Imagery, Poetry, Emotion, Adversity, Despair, Hope, Love, Implied Smoking and Artistic Monochrome.
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