Oysters

An old man limped to his fishing boat,
His fishing cap on his head,
A young boy walked beside the man
Why do you limp? he said.

I’ve always limped was the mans reply,
And there’s nothing I can do,
Perhaps when you’re my age dear boy,
You’ll be limping too.

When the pair had reached the fishing boat,
The old man sat a while,
The young boy took the old mans boots,
And told him with a smile.

It’s no wonder that you limp old man,
And that all your socks are smelly,
There are half a dozen Oysters
Hiding in your welly.

©RS2010