The Great Lobster Boil

by Lem Snow

There's young folks and hoary involved in this story,
The title of which is the Great Lobster Boil,
A tale of great slaughter in boiling hot water
Of lobsters that came from the Straits of Belle Isle.

By car, truck and flivver, en route from Trout River,
The lobsters arrived here one evening in May,
At a lakeside location near the great hydro station,
Where all were made ready to boil them that day.

Folks came from the high roads, they came from the byroads,
They came with a frown and they came with a smile.
Young man and their ladies and women with babies,
All rushed to the scene of the great lobster boil.

As we were a-toiling, with lobster pots boiling,
And freshly cooked lobsters we stacked in a pile,
By sniffing and smelling the fragrance compelling,
They came on parade to the great lobster boil.

Came big ones and small ones, wide, fat, short and tall ones,
And one who had ne'er seen a lobster before.
He thought they were pliers all stuck full of wires
Once dropped by a linesman who traveled the shore.

Came tillers and nurses with handbags and purses,
All daintily dressed as you may well suppose,
With paraphernalia, all types of regalia,
Including white tissues for wiping the nose.

While sucking and slurping like little birds chirping,
The last tasty morsel was well worth the while.
The paste from those creatures bespattered their features
But none gave a hoot at the great lobster boil.

There came in old codger, an out-of-town lodger,
Who said, "All my life I've been tilling the soil
I've never been fishing but oft I've been wishing
To get a good fee at the great lobster boil."

He purchased a dozen for him and his cousin,
Then sat down nearby with a satisfied smile.
While shells were a-cracking their lips were a-smacking,
Enjoying the feast at the great lobster boil.

With babies a-crying and lobster shells flying,
As sham battles raged on the shell-littered shore,
Bespattered and smelling we still kept on selling,
The lobsters we cooked at the great lobster boil.

As maidens and urchins and white headed merchants,
All clamoring for lobsters, oh what a turmoil,
When two pretty fillies caught cramps in their bellies,
And fled for relief from the great lobster boil.

So this ends the story of work fun and glory,
The title of which is the Great Lobster Boil, 
A tale of great slaughter in boiling hot water
Of lobsters we brought from the Straits of Belle Isle.