Well, the clock says it's time to float now;
I guess we'd better boat now.
I really like the plaice here. . .all bite.

The carp go past, all stuffed with flies,
Deep bight best--no shallow shoals.
The brazen bream the hook defies;
Let's get out the poles
And then start the trolls.

Goin' deep in bight for some sole fishin',
Warm and fry on a get-home stove.
Turbot caught, and we'll make some gravy. . .
Once we get into the cove.

Fetch some Millers from the mini wet;[bar]
Speed it up; while at it, get
A pint of ice cream--chocolate.
Burly I get,
Burning, I sweat,
Burp I regret.
Berg's bashed the net!

Goin' deep in bight and my pole's twitchin'.
Warning cry and my face goes mauve.
Turn around; it's getting' too wavy.
Strugglin' boat is sea-gone. . .stove!
Oh no!!

We're wave-socked and ain't gonna float now;
Distressed, I call the boat "scow"
And then I scream "Mayday!
Hear alright?
All night,
Trawl bight!"