I saw her at the fish shop.

Cod lying on a cold white slab.

Her hair so soft, ‘twould put the finest silk to shame.

Herrings, mouths agape, with staring eyes.

Blue eyes with a warm, sweet smile.

Flat fish, plaice and sole together lie.

A soft brown suntan adds effect.

Lobsters, still alive, their claws tied down.

This Saxon beauty makes me reel,

As do the eels when trying to escape –

A vain attempt, ‘twill get them nowhere.

But I approach, and what of me?

She smiles, picks up her sole, and then departs.

And so I follow and forget my plaice.

I leave the cod and eels and kippers too,