Fish, No Thanks!

( No prompt. Just a little something for a laugh.)

It’s Friday, you must eat your fish!

I hate the taste; may I have a different dish?

The church says fish. You have no other wish.

Go to bed hungry until you reform.

You’ll go to hell if you don’t conform.

What’s that you say, meat on Friday is now, okay?

The Italian fishing fleet no longer has any sway.

Everyone that went to hell in the past can now come out and play!

So, see Dad, I was right all along. Why the silence—have you nothing to say?

Shut up and eat your steak. Have it your way.

(I’ve never liked the taste of fish. Fresh-water fish or salt-water fish, crustations, or mollusks, it doesn’t matter. They all taste like crap to me. If it breathes water, I don’t eat it.)