Fishy

She was a young lady
From Nantrucket
Who was really tired
Of carrying the bucket.
She really liked
Fish and chips
But the smell of this
Catch was atrocious
Indeed smelled like shit
So she pondered as by the seaside
She did sit,
For, she figured, if she carried it
Some more
She knew she'd have a fit,
Might even puke
Never mind that from her boss
She'd get a serious rebuke.
But her stomach in this case
Had the final word
Give it up or throw up
So the fish went to the sea
For she could no longer hack it.
The final drop in the pocket.
Lousy job lousy shifts,
So she returned to the restaurant,
Saw her boss, dropped her apron
And the bucket
Said good-bye and fuck it.