The Saga Of The Salmon

There was only one salmon

Left in the shop

On Christmas Eve

When to Grimsby I got

I wanted a side

But this one was whole

That said we were three

So around it could go

The price was a bargain

Only twenty quid

So we decided to grab it

Before someone else did

I kindly asked the fishmonger

To work his magic

To gut it and section it

But his craftsmanship was tragic

He cleaned out its insides

Then left it at that

Slid it’s poor carcass

Into a plaggy bag

That wasn’t even sealed

And it was sliding around

When I clocked it I was livid

And gave him a dressing down

“What have you done?!

What an abortion!

Is that your idea

Of filleted, salmon portions?

It’s as long as I’m tall

In one massive piece

I’d envisioned beautiful steaks

And two sides at least

But that cock up looks like

You’ve both had a fight

And that the poor salmon

Came back to life

And fought until the end

Whilst you brandished your blade

Which must have been serrated

Judging by the mess you’ve made!

It’s got jagged edges

All torn to shreds

And by the look of those fins

You haven’t removed it’s legs

The width isn’t even

It’s triangle shaped

And it’s a metre in length

You’ve clearly made a mistake!”

Turns out he was

A Christmas temp

Not a trained fishmonger

And wanted his break

So he rushed and fled

Leaving a mess

So I had to call his manager

And flaming protest

Who was horrified

When he saw the state

Of the poor salmon

Unfit for a plate

He ordered the temp

To finish the job

And I had to direct

The silly sod

Like I know how to prep

A whopping great fish?!

But back in Crouch End

There’d have been none of this

They’re all fully qualified

To do the job

Take pride in their work

Though it costs a few bob

But the end result

Is a thing of beauty

All precise and portioned

And packaged and pretty

Not all mangled up

In a slimy bag

That it takes two people to haul

And yank and drag

But we got there in the end

By the skin of our teeth

And the unfortunate salmon

Looked more palatable at least

And they gave us a discount

Which can’t be bad

So I summoned some Christmas spirit

And forgave the poor lad

Then headed home

To see my folks

Brandishing said salmon

The poor butt of the joke

But we gave it a fitting

Send off in the end

Baked it with lemon

Til it was fit for a king

So all was not lost

And it gave us a giggle

Breaking the ice

And filling our middles

It literally was

The catch of the day

And it tasted delicious

I’m happy to say.

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