Beneath the Waves There is No Snow

Amongst darkened currents I swam with the fishesEnjoined
them to tell to me their fishy wishesI exclaimed 'I hear
turkey is rather delishes'But the coy school of carp remained
dumb.So I cried 'Why the silence? It's Christmas
you clods!'and my anger was met with a series of
nodsSaid the smallest: 'The anglers have all downed their
rodsVery soon Mer-Santa will
come.''Mer-Santa?' I snorted 'He exists!' they
retortedand each cod proudly waggled the stocking he
sportedBut their hopes of a jolly Noel I soon
thwartedI caught them and poached them - they're now in my
tum.