When Nature Inspires, a Poem is Born
Eggs by Mr. Fish
On a beach, on an island in the Indian Sea,
On a day just about as hot as could be,
A boy on a beach, whilst digging the sand,
Unearthed a round egg which he cupped in his hand,
But before a split second, not a moment had passed,
He heard a grieved cry from down yonder, ‘Avast!’
‘Give me that egg, for I saw it first!’
‘Or I’ll chop off your toes’, the little voice cursed.
The boy looked left and right, then down to the floor,
Where a little pink crab was wielding its claw.
He said, ‘How now crab? Tell me I beg,
What would you do should I give you this egg?’
‘Well…’ drooled the crab, it’s little eyes gleaming,
As about it’s meal plans, the crustacean was scheming…
‘I heard some folks boil them, though some prefer fried,
And some eat them pickled, which most can’t abide.
Or hard boiled with soldiers, sliced up, or scrambled,
With bacon and sausages’, the greedy crab rambled…
‘They’re eaten in sandwiches with cress mayonnaise,
And on spinach drizzled with thick hollandaise.
Or for lunch perhaps, served up as ham egg and chips’,
The little crab slobbered, licking its lips
And in Spain they make omelettes, huge round and deep pan,
In Portugal puddings like custard and flan,
In China they eat them, all mixed up with rice
In Morocco, shakshuka with pepper and spice,
In Japan, in volcanoes they char them till black,
Which apparently makes for a sulphorous snack.
In Korea they top off a good bibimbap,
In America, pancakes, with maple tree sap.
In Britain they wrap it in pig, then wrap it in bread,
The strangest ideas humans get in their head.
Some whip them to make meringue, mouse, or blemonge
Or beat them in baking victoria sponge.
‘That’s all very well crab, but you’ve neglected my question,’
‘Please tell me,’ said boy, ‘your egg serving suggestion.’
‘Well,’said the crab, and it brandished it’s claw,
‘I slice the shell open and I eat em up raw!
I slurp out the white which is runny and sticky,
Green turtle, or hawksbill – I’ll eat both, I’m not picky.
What’s more, they’re delectable when partially developed,
Like a sweet jellybaby, all membrane enveloped,
No one shall sway me, for there’s no better snack,
Than a pulsating, jelly-bellied, yellow yolk sack.
‘Hmmmm’ said the boy, ‘Dear crab I protest,
For I know of a snack that is truly the best.’
The crab looked doubtful and said, ‘boy I beg
Pray tell me, what food is there better than egg?’
With a grin the boy replied, ‘My dear crustation,
We find ourselves in an awkward situation
For the finest dish surely, from Singapore to Surrey,
Is a finely spiced crab cacasai curry!’
And with that the boy returned the egg to the sand,
And plucked the crab twix finger-n-thumb of his hand.
And though the crab struggled, the boys grip was a winner,
And so the crab went with him, back home for dinner.
Copyright © 2025 Harry Fishlock. All rights reserved.