Oh, my Giant Isopod,
you baffle me, you unseemly clod.
Not a lobster, that's clear.
Perhaps something more queer?
Do you clatter 'cross clutches of ocean wrought weeds
promenading on pinnacles of crustaceous feet?
When you feast on the flesh of a fresh fainted beast,
do you knargle your newfangled pincers with glee?
And asleep, as you snuggle dead snacks in your nest
do your eyes ever close, or at least take a rest?
Oh, my Giant Isopod,
you baffle me, you unseemly clod.
You must admit, you're obscenely odd.
