Summary justice to a lobster,
Is to be boiled alive I say so,
Its right up there with hung, drawn and quartered,
Believe me I’m a lobster I know!
And yet as I drift through the ether,
In this afterlife I go with the flow,
I bumped into a bloke they call Guy Fawkes,
And to my point he agreed but although,
He perceived that with him being human,
His capacity to feel pain outweighed mine,
My riposte though was to explain to him,
“How dare you belittle me sunshine.
At least your remains were not eaten,
Scoffed in the gobs of mankind,
At least you were tried and found guilty,
Even though your appeal was declined.”
So next time you’re boiling a lobster,
A live one the like of which once was me,
Consider that my only crime was,
Just crawling around in the sea!