In Falmouth seagulls angered me,
Their ways I can't abide,
I made them fish-paste sandwiches
With calcium carbide.
The greedy bastards ate it all,
And once they'd all inside,
They'd soar above the yachties,
Who therein did reside.
The sylph-like topless ladies,
Reclining on the decks,
Looked quite sublime with seagull slime,
Draped round their perfect necks.