And very fishy. And talking of fish
I had some battered pollock for my tea
Got a load of pollocks still in my fridge
I’m fed a load of pollocks, it’s my dish
I just have to eat it, like it or not
It’s a stitch-up that’s just gone up a stitch
Things were cooked up and put into my pot
And it can sicken, as thickens the plot
There’s goings-on decidedly funny
Funny as suspicious as you could wish
Like Reggie Perrin’s dodgy products, Grot
Shakespeare’s sonnets, how they ring true for me
If he went through this, my company’s rich
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