| Farewell my anchovy, You're leaving my plate. You're oily and slimy, And doomed in your fate. Your texture is terrible, It's that rotten smell I dread; You make me want to spit and yell, If I lick you I'll drop dead. Awful, horrible, disastrous, bad; Horrendous, distasteful, pungent - how sad. Malodorous, atrocious, sickening, foul; You're not food for me, but you might be for an owl. Go find a living, Anywhere but here. Here you're not welcome, Nor any place near. You're banished to Siberia, Where they might cut you some slack. I wish you well on your journey, And don't ever come back. - S.C. age 9 |