THE FISHFINGER SONG

Come all ye gallant sail-i-ers, who sail across the sea;
And listen to this story I'm about to tell to thee.
Concerning them bold Fishermen who sail the seas so wet;
A-hunting for fish fingers, with a harpoon and a net.

'Twas in the year of '64,or was it' 63-
We set sail from Solihull, bound for Amer-i-key.
The storms they was a-ra-ji-ing, and the waves a dreadful sight;
It took us forty days, me boys, to reach the Isle of Wight.

Our Captain's name was Gladys, he wore a dress of red;
Which might have been the reason he was not marr-i-ed.
He was a gay old sea-bitch and it was his fav-our-ite joy,
To take a turn around the deck with the handsome cabin boy.

Two hundred miles from Iceland, a mighty shoal we spied;
MacFisheiies Fish Fin-gi-ers, a-floating'gainst the tide.
We set off in our longboats, but then our luck we cursed;
A-las, we was too late, the Chinese take-away got there first.

Them slant eyed heathens came at we, they was a dreadful crew;
A-brandishing tran-sis-ti-ers, and a-giving it the old Kung-Fu.
We sang them a sea shan-ti-ee, but they did not want to know;
And their Skipper felled our mizzen mast with one Karate blow.

We got back to old Eng-gi-land in a twelve month and a day;
It would have been much quicker, but we went the pretty way.
No more we'll go Fish Fingering on frozen arctic shores;
Next year we'll hunt beefburgers on the plains of Ilkley Moor.
^^