Skip to main content
ANN , Ann!
 Come! quick as you can!
There's a fish that talks
 In the frying-pan.
Out of the fat,
 As clear as glass,
He put up his mouth
 And moaned ‘Alas!’
Oh, most mournful,
 ‘Alas, alack!’
Then turned to his sizzling,
 And sank him back.
Rate this poem
Average: 4.4 (33 votes)
Reviews
No reviews yet.