SOME MUSINGS ON THE IMPRACTICALITY OF CHOOSING MERPEOPLE AS MATES

SOME MUSINGS ON THE IMPRACTICALITY OF CHOOSING MERPEOPLE AS MATES

Gather around - you may think there’s something fishy afoot

But in the life I am living I have been known to have

Some quite interesting - if not fascinating - debates

Like some recent musings on the impracticality

Or otherwise of seamen - or possibly seawomen -

Choosing to take Merpeople as mates

It is - I imagine - pretty well understood in these modern days

That the sailors of old who in such times almost certainly

Were probably quite frustrated and most usually men

All of whom a very long way from their home ports

So they might understandably be tempted and titillated

By a siren's longing song every now and then

Far from home a bare-chested apparently fair maiden

With an alluring dazzling halo of golden sea-spun hair

Sometimes would bewitch them and bring them delight

But despite everything I really can’t help but wonder

If such yearning lustful delight turned into despair

When it came to matters much later at night

You’d imagine far earlier in their encounter than this

It would occur to even the most randy of frustrated sailors

Upon more intimate investigation of their new found dish

Despite anatomical ignorance I’m sure they could tell

They might not have much future if their lovely new belle

From the waist down was nothing but fish

The more romantically minded amongst us might think

And argue of course that such things are never all about

When it comes to matters concerning the love in our hearts

Physical attributes and the interaction of incompatible bodily bits

Wondering where and what and how a thing might be able to fit

But where’s the relationship without the naughty parts

Then - because I do - I have many other strange thoughts

Like where on a body should the fish-scales start to sprout

Are there half-fleshy scales from the belly button down below

Or do they just begin at a hard line like a peculiar belt

After all if you were a someone who was really half fish

The fish part’s hardly like wearing trousers you know

Ah - They all cry – I see now that you don’t understand

It’s not about matters Piscean or ectothermic cordates

Like people - whales and dolphins are mammals too

So why – I reply – do those fictional depictions

Always choose to show them on porpoise as half fish

With scales and fins and the whole ballyhoo

On those long lonely nights when the first flush has passed

What do humans and Merfolk find in common to talk about

Are Merpeople interested in human art or science or fiction

What would their own undersea books and interests be

With nothing to talk about but seaweed, shells and fish

Interspecies love could fast turn to friction

Moving onwards to matters more practical and everyday

Is it half-fish or man who gets to clean all the laundry

At sea it cannot be easy to handle the washing chores

When those terrible week old rotten fish whiffs fill the air

Without legs to brace you as you rinse and you soak

Do Merpeople merely flap about on the laundry floor

Perhaps long-term relationships were never anyone’s plan

A quick fumble with a mermaid who’d slip away over the side

Tall tales told by seamen to make all of the other men feel green

Of exotic beauties in mystical lands forever remaining unseen

Or guiltily stitched fabrications only meant for covering up

Saucy salty tales that were far more obscene

Personally I believe that the Merpeople were myth

Made up to disguise more basic seaborne lusts and urges

When you’re long away from your home and your hearth

Far too long in confined spaces with foul-smelling blokes

Then home to a family oblivious of such aquatic betrayals

Whose first request is that you take a bath

MAWH, Jan 2018