One fish, two fish,
How do you do, fish?
Black fish, blue fish,
I am after you, fish.
A bold fish, a cold fish,
I don’t care how old, fish.
Green fish, mean fish,
Swimming in the stream, fish.
Fat fish, lean fish,
You are on my wish list, fish.
Brown fish, clown fish,
Swimming up and down, fish.
Blow fish, glow fish,
Nowhere left to go, fish.
Red fish, dead fish,
You will make a tasty dish.
Hatch a fish, catch a fish,
You will be delicious, fish.
A hook, a pole,
A roll of twine,
And, pretty soon,
You will be mine.
Butter sauce with lemon-lime,
Sage, oregano and thyme,
A lovely glass of cold, white wine,
A meal which will deserve a kiss.
I’d like to know, so I don’t miss,
Are there other words which rhyme with fish?
Suwannee Lady sings this song. The catfish swim and the snakes are long.
The smoke that’s spilling from the oil filled grill, is getting pretty strong.
Everybody’s hungry now. I hope I’m right instead of wrong.
Put your napkin back, in your old knapsack, and everybody sing along!
I’m going to bake a jellyfish cake,
And, make up a big pot of caterpillar stew.
I hope that you, will be having some,
And, I know I’ll be having some, too.
There’ll be spider web pudding with fire fly goo.
It is one of my favorites, but, I’ll give some to you.
Grab a knife and a fork and a big plastic spoon, because,
You know, now, it’s almost noon,
And, everyone knows, we’ll be eating very soon.
We’ll have crispy, and, dee-fried, blue horsefly’s eyes,
Served with sweet beetle soup, and, with dragonfly pies.
Butterfly butter makes a very good spread.
You can try some instead, on the live-oak tree bread.
Then curried cactus, which is such a treat,
I make it with fresh, furry, hush puppy’s feet,
Mixed with hot muskrat, in red-fire-ant sauce,
And, tossed in a dressing of wet, spanish moss.
Acorn salad with kudzu, blue tailed skink fondue,
Try the wild catfish candy, with Branford’s own brandy,
Or, with wine distilled from dandelions and mimosa’s seed,
Or, whiskey which my neighbor made from leftover, jimson weed.
We’ll have ground goobers, the frozen kind. I never use the canned.
Then goulash made from gopher’s guts and spiced with lots of sand.
There’ll be sizzling, flambed lizards with hot, bubbling, buzzard’s gizzards,
And, finger licking, sweet, red, frog jam spread on alligator ham,
Roasted toad toes in a sauce with crushed snail’s shell,
A rich, dish which I think is swell,
And, a dish which I make really well,
But, watch out for the wasp-sting dip because its hot as anything.
After lunch is over, you can sit with me, beneath a tree.
You can have a sawgrass soda, or an unsweet, pine straw tea.
If you want one, I could make, a copperhead slushy or, a rattlesnake shake.
If you find some of these dishes don’t fulfill all your wishes,
Or, if you think that one of them might sound a bit suspicious,
Thank your lucky stars and consider it auspicious,
That a good cook can take anything, as long as its nutritious,
And, turn it into a gourmet dish, which is wonderfully delicious.
Once I knew three songbirds. The songbirds knew no words. But, the first bird, Though he could not say, Was sure he did not want to stay, He said hello, He wanted to laugh, But, instead, he flew quite far away, And, he married a jello giraffe.
The second bird thought this was funny. When she saw them together she’d laugh. On the back porch she’d rock, When she mended her sock, And, she’d wiggle and giggle, For a hour and a half.
Now, sure was the third bird, They certainly were absurd, And, sure they were really quite daft, Then she shocked the whole staff, And, the other riff raff, When she waved us adieu, And, flew off to the zoo, With the son of the checkerboard calf.