I had myself a holiday,
the sun was playing host,
no single cloud was in the sky
to cry on me and boast,
and this was strange because it was
upon the English Coast!
When standing on the beach, I felt
a tapping on my toe,
A Cockle looking up at me
while I looked back below,
and this went on for quite some time
till words began to flow.
"Oh pardon me," the Cockle Said,
all bashful and sincere,
"I miss the sound of seaside waves
that crash beneath the pier."
And this was rather odd, you see,
he had no ears to hear!
"I strain to see," the Cockle said,
"My way around this bay,
I don't suppose you have the time
to help me find my way?"
I tied some string around his shell
and pulled him like a sleigh.
"I thank you, Sir," the Cockle beamed,
"To lend your helping hand,
dragging me 'round this far and wide
and all across the sand."
You see, he couldn't walk himself -
he'd got no legs to stand.
"I'll introduce you to my friends
that live beneath the tide,
like dear old Mr. Langoustine
and Mrs. Shrimp, his bride."
I joked I'd like to dine on them
and little Cockle cried.
"We're almost there," I cheered to him,
expecting quite a yell,
but as I turned, he'd disappeared
to where I couldn't tell.
(A seagull came on swooping down
and picked him from his shell!)
- Ben Habbard
(each time I am descending from the 8th floor to the 1st floor in the Anderson building at UArts, where my studio is located, and then I am ascending the 8 flights of stairs)
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