We chased away a mother goose
By spraying off her poop
She’d defecated on the deck
A mound of moon-gray goop.
And when she left, she left her eggs
Abandoned in the nest
They wouldn’t last without her
As I’m sure you could have guessed.
And so we brought the eggs inside
And mourned they hadn’t hatched
We wondered what to do with them
Our puzzled heads we scratched.
And one said, “Let us bury them,
And sing a song of woe.”
And one said, “That seems silly.”
And I said, “Hey, I know!
Let’s cook ‘em up for breakfast!
Well, don’t you think we ought?”
The others shrugged and looked around
And one said, “Hey, why not?”
And so we cracked the giant egg
And put it in a bowl
And soon its wild and eggy scent
Had filled our nostrils full.
The cook said, “Over-easy?”
And I answered: “That sounds great!”
Then soon we had a yolk and white
Upon a dinner plate.
We felt a little nervous then
To eat this goosey dish
We put the egg upon our tongues
It tasted like a fish.
“That’s odd,” I said, “It tastes like it
Was gathered from the sea.
Does anybody like it?”
And all replied: “Not me.”
“Why does it taste like fish?” I asked.
“It wasn’t fishy raw.”
But then we looked upon the deck
And this is what we saw:
The mother goose who’d left her eggs
Was full-on makin’ out
Her tongue was halfway down the throat
Of one large, manly trout!
“What if those eggs had hatched?!” I asked
The cook said, “I deduce
That if they’d hatched, the offspring
Might have been half-fish, half-goose!”
“That would have been,” another said
“A strange anomaly!
A scaly goose, or feathered fish?
I wonder which it’d be?”
Then the kissing couple vanished
And the deck looked bare and clean
I asked, “Did we hallucinate
The make-out sesh we’ve seen?”
We looked around; we all just shrugged
The cook broke into tears
And when I asked, “Who’d like more egg?”
There were no volunteers.
