A fishing poem from somewhere in the Carribean...

How dare you stick that gaff in me,
to the captain said the fish.
You’ve sailed on hard for several days,
I’d like to grant your wish.

But deceiving another creature
is not so neat a feat.
So if you’re after protein,
you should try your frozen meat.

I had grabbed your yellow wobbler,
your hook, it pierced my lip.
I jumped so high and shook my head,
but could not give it the slip.

I swam and pulled and worked so hard,
would’ve even paid a ransom.
But after fifteen minutes, maybe more,
I lay exhausted at your transom.

You stuck a gaff right through my side,
and hauled me up so tight.
But like your admiral John Paul Jones
“I’d just begun to fight.”

I kicked my tail and beat it hard,
three times in quick succession.
I might be doomed to a chaffing dish,
but I’ll teach you a lesson.

Against the stern rail cable,
thrashing not to “buy the farm,”
I drove that bloody gaff hook,
into your upper arm.

So I may have fed you bastards,
and you won, in all finality.
but in two small scars, left upper arm,
I’ve achieved my immortality.

Fishers: Tom Toohey, Joe Metz, Paul Lagassey
November 4, 2009
Poem: Joseph Metz