When I was a little fish, My mother said to me; 'Don't hang about, With just any old trout, Or you'll wind up a fisherman's tea.' I asked her what she meant by this,
To clear the murky waters, And she said this, 'It's important for a fish, To explain this to all her of daughters. The ocean is a mighty place, More than you can dream. There's the cod, the hake -
(She sighed, wasn't he a mistake), The squid and the bright sea bream. It's a diverse array, From sea horse to ray, To suit each and every taste - Whether you prefer a fast-swimmer, Or a low lying winner,
A sail fish or a flat plaice. So choose who you want, Don't settle for less, Don't fall flat for the first fish you see. Now is that quite clear? Have you got that, my dear? Were you listening hard to me?'
I nodded my head, And flapped my fins, And said that I understood. She smiled, 'Off you go, And remember, go slow - And your love you'll keep for good.'