Now once there was a mackerel,
Of ancestry had lots;
Her name goes way, way back – Carol –
MacCarol shows she’s Scots.
She wondered what there was entailed
When at the end came ‘FIN’,
And how the fishes could be scaled
As guilty of a sin.
She sought religious mysteries
Both current and with flow,
And studied ancient histories
Their drift to get to know.
She was informed the one true God
Lay deep on ocean floor,
But that turned out an ancient cod,
With whisker on his jaw.
A far-developed sole she sought
As mentor to appear;
A Dutch one her attention caught –
He was a sole ‘Mijn heer’.
But found him simply full of sauce –
Sour butter-upper, that! –
He went and bottomed out, of course,
And there she left him flat.
Then saw that cods who lurk below
And soles who do it, too,
Retain the things one needs to know
To still come swimming through.
And noticed birds that dive from high
Could plunge beneath the sea,
And then re-rise into the sky
In manner wild and free.
While she observed all human-kind
Restricted to one plane;
For humans you will only find
On surface, in the main.
Philosophy she set in words
As well as one could wish –
‘The highest form of life is birds,
And, after that, come fish.
‘While humans are right down the list,
For they on top of sea,
Or bottom sky, have to exist,
So live restrictedly.’
For philosophic things she’d say
Was Carol sanctified –
To Holy Mackerel they pray
In places far and wide.
© Colonialist September 2013 (WordPress)