A lobster of breeding enjoys
A Saturday night with the boys.
They'll all drink delicious
Prawn cocktails, like fishes,
With ladies of charm and of poise.

The sight of these lovely lobstresses,
In skimpified sea fern made dresses,
Plus bladder wrack wrapper,
Will charm the most dapper
Of males, as she offers caresses.

One guy at this fish bar was Ryan,
Who'd love gals and then leave them cryin'.
He was the king lobster,
The top honcho mobster:
To take him on no man was tryin'.

The denizens of this deep den
Were filled with astonishment when
A barnacled whore
Threw open the door,
And yelled "Who's this Ryan? I'm Bren."

He gets to his feet and she grabs
His eel, which he skilfully jabs
Into her pudenda,
And wrestles with Brenda,
And catches a dose of the crabs.

Now bachelors may think it crim-
inal But his future's now dim.
The two settled down
In a cave outside town,
Since she got her claw into him.

Well, maybe I've been quite audacious,
To tell of these creatures crustaceous,
But I swear by the belly
Of Eskimo Nelly,
There isn't a word that's fallacious.