Beneath the Waves There is No Snow

Amongst darkened currents I swam with the fishes
Enjoined
them to tell to me their fishy wishes
I exclaimed 'I hear
turkey is rather delishes'
But the coy school of carp remained
dumb.

So I cried 'Why the silence? It's Christmas
you clods!'
and my anger was met with a series of
nods
Said the smallest: 'The anglers have all downed their
rods
Very soon Mer-Santa will
come.'

'Mer-Santa?' I snorted 'He exists!' they
retorted
and each cod proudly waggled the stocking he
sported
But their hopes of a jolly Noel I soon
thwarted
I caught them and poached them - they're now in my
tum.