As a lad I'd overheard
the impossibly absurd.
Every other word
about the fish that never swum.

It had no head or tails.
No pile of entrails.
When you ate females you'd think
"Thy kingdom's finally come".

The first time that I tried it
I probably should have fried it.
It smelled like something died.
God. 
It nauseated me.

But now that I'm full grown
it's like an ice cream cone.
I always dine alone
on my chicken of the sea.

The ladies keep it hidden.
As though it were forbidden.
But once that it's gets ridden
It gets ridden frequently.

It's been worshipped and revered
that little oyster with the beard.
But it seems it's gotton smeared
with some way too good to be.

Cuz sure enough it was.
All that  bearded oyster does
is go searching for a husband
to start a family.

Had I took a closer look
I might have seen the treble hook
but it read me like a book
and now I'll never shake it free.