Well, here is some more processing. I learned this version at St Andrews University (Scotland) in 1959, except for the stanzas in brackets, which I adapted from another version, thinking them too good to miss:



THE LOBSTER

"Good morning, Mr Fisherman!" "Good morning, sir!" said he.
"Have you a lobster for my tea?"

CHORUS: Singing aye, aye, aye, shit or bust,
Never let your ballocks dangle in the dust.

"Oh yes, I have a lobster, indeed I have two:
One for me and the other for you,"

Well, I took the lobster home, but I couldn't find a dish,
So I put it in the pot where you're used to take a piss,

Well, early in the morning, as everyone should know,
A woman must get up to let the water flow,

The lobster looked up with a smile on its kisser,
And he took a grab at my old lady's pisser,

Well, the lady gave a scream and the lobster gave a grunt,
And she jumped from the pot with the lobster on her cunt,

[Well, I ran to take a look, not putting on my clothes;
He up with his claw and grabbed me by the nose,

"We must ride to the doctor," my wife she did declare,
"To get your nose out of my affair,"]

Well, I grabbed a shovel and my wife she grabbed a broom,
And we chased the fucking lobster around the fucking room,

We hit it on the arse and we hit it on the head
And we beat the fucking lobster till it was fucking dead,

The moral of the story is plain as it can be:
Take a look into the pisspot before you take a pee,

That's the end of the story; there isn't any more:
There's an apple up my arsehole, and you can have the core,

--- Joe Fineman    joe_f@verizon.net

||: Happiness is an imaginary condition, formerly attributed by the living to the dead. :||