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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