If only we had a blue whale...alive, alive-o. Like poor Molly Malone, in Dublin's fair city where girls are so pretty, where I first sank me fangs in sweet Molly Malone. That's how my old buddy Vlad used to sing it. He always said that she now wheels her wheelbarrow through crypts broad and narrow. Odd chap, Vlad. Haven't seen him since I invited him to a steak dinner. Just as well, I guess, he was always sticking his friends for the drinks. Said he was trying to cure his constant coffin.