You'll have to haul up a tune for this, and I am sure you can come up with a better ending, but here is a first draft for amusement:

The Tale of the Barby Bug

Many tales are told of the waters cold, in the deeps off Mount Desert town,
Where the ocean roar meets the rocky shore, and the cold granite ribs run down
Where the lobsters grow, in the deeps below, and the men meet their fate with a shrug--
But there's no tale told, by those shores so cold, like the tale of the Barby Bug.

Now the lobster traps in the frozen climes, they are manned by a special breed,
Men as hard of eye as a winter's sky, who march to their own good speed,
And their words are few, and if one but knew, their thoughts might be few as well,
'Til the day that their haul brought a Barbie Doll from the ocean's icy well.

It was old Jim Bright, on a dark cold night, and his sternman loyal and strong
With a load of bouys and a muffled noise slipped out past the bell-bouy's gong,
'Round Pemaquid Point down the Indian Shore, while the neighbors slept and snored
But down in the hold, like a pirate's gold, was a bag from K-Mart's store.

Now they'd never told, those boatmen bold, what they bore in that precious bay,
They just snuck it aboard, like a smuggler's horde, as though too ashamed to say,
And it's hard to prove, when they made their move, and slipped their lines and hauled,
But the gossips say that their cargo dark was -- clothes for a Barby doll!

There was an apron neat, so the story goes, and a sweet gingham dress o'blue
And a hat with a ruff -- and if that ain't enough -- six pairs of little pink shoes!
And they hauled the traps in the channel close, while they pulled on their old clay jug,
And before the day, on the deck boards lay, a motherin' old Maine bug!

She had roamed the floor of the ocean shore for a decade -- maybe two!
And anything that a bug could know that that lobster already knew,
She was mean and hard, and at least a yard, she'd a' won any tripper's cup!
But she didn't much cuss, or fight, nor fuss, 'til they tried to dress her up!!

"Now see here", said Bright, "We must do this right! So just hold you her legs and her claws
And we'll slip on these shoes, and this dress so blue, with nary a hitch or a pause!"
So the mate grabbed hold, and he grabbed those clothes, and he thought that he'd made his luck,
'Til Shellback Sue took a differing view, and commenced to nip and buck!

Wal, she bucked and nipped and she clawed and she flipped, and the deck ran with blood and water,
And the cussing rare in the cold night air woulda stunned a fisherman's daughter,
But the men are hard from those Down East yards, and these two were no exception,
When the dawn came round, she was pegged and down, and dressed to rare perfection!

She looked awful sweet, in that apron neat, and those six pairs of little shoes
And they grinned a grin (as they threw her in) as Maine men are wont to do.
Yes they tossed her back, in her shoes and dress, and they nursed their cuts and their bites
And none of the townsfolk ever knew what those two had done that night.

But from time to time, when the fogs close in, on that cold Atlantic town,
And night grows dark outside the hearth, and the winds from the North come down
They say there's a sound on the cold night air, like the hymn of a summer's rose,
And a lobstery voice sings a faint, faint song:
"Oh, thanks for the loverly clothes!"