The Greasy Fish Shack

Our waitress dropped a light bulb
It smashed upon the floor,
She got a broom and swept it up
We didn’t see her more.

The fish was strong and oily
It tasted almost raw,
The tartar sauce was rancid
And so was the coleslaw.

Our fries were limp and greasy,
More wan than golden brown,
Smothered in slimy gravy
We fought to keep them down.

Our hunger drove us to ingest
Most of that dreadful meal,
We asked to see the manager
To dicker for a deal.

The manager came out,
He said we’d cleaned our plates
And that we had a lot of nerve
To ask him for rebates.

We paid the tab protesting
And cursed that wretched spot,
We exited, then blew our lunch
Out in the parking lot.

Our waitress reappeared then
With a pail and mop,
And as we quickly sped away
Began to clean it up...