Pull the Other One
A crab, I am told,
will not bite
or poison you
just for spite.
Won’t lie in wait
beneath a stone
until one morning,
out alone
You poke a finger
like a fool
into an innocent-
looking pool.
Won’t leap out
and grab your hand
drag you sideways
o’er the sand
To the bottom
of the sea
and eat you, dressed,
for Sunday tea.
OUCH!
