In a Pickle by Barbara Hill

They said it’s gross,
They said it’s cool,
Who’d they think they’re
Trying to fool.

But hang on there;
Well, How do you do!
I think I’ve morphed
To Scooby Doo.

But something’s happened.
Have I lost my sight?
No. The colour’s gone,
It’s black and white.

There’s ghosts of crabs
Just grinning wide;
And newts and frogs
All goggle eyed.

Now! Changed again
But coloured though.
Once vivid orange,
Just like Nemo.

Hey this is great,
They all stay so still;
Nothing’s moving, not
A tiny gill.

Octopus in Tonic Wine;
A juicy store.
Will pickled ones be fine
In thermidor?

Why’d they do it?
What’s the game?
And when can I
Come back again?

It’s all been brill’.
Couldn’t have been better.
But I still prefer my fishes
Fried in batter.

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