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Scrod and Cod

Crossed harpoons and brass spittoons
Fill Barnacle Bill's Rusty Scupper.
Nets and floats and plaques from boats
Add charm to your nautical supper.

Ship's chronometer with a barometer
Tells you the time and the weather.
Ropes and pulley are all very bully
And really help pull it together.

Colored old bottles with sea stains and mottles
And ancient lobster man traps
Are hung on the walls. The ocean it calls
From the charts and the logs and the maps.

In Old New England, the antique thing land,
Every seagoing rarity
Is put in this place and it's right in your face
Like a cheap telemarketing charity.

I'll say it the louder. You better like chowder.
It goes with the decor and scheme.
A Mafia mobster can eat ten pound lobster,
Or you can have crab legs and creme

From starboard to larboard you probably are bored
With maritime meals on the strand.
Although it's the best, they should give it a rest
And clean the clams fully for sand.

This seaside decor can be oh such a bore
And the food isn't really that good.
We all know the menu in this kind of venue,
With gift shops to sell you drift wood.

From bar rail to spar rail to Genoa jib sail,
From front desk to check out to poop deck,
The lore of the ocean's in every notion
And adding a price to your soup check.

April 16, 2007 Stephen Blumenkranz



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