Being from the South, there’s one thing for sure;
I love crawfish, and always want more.
The spices are a delight, and the corn and potatoes are great;
I’m always satisfied, with what I ate.
I’ve heard this before, and I always laugh at it;
It’s a wish for Heaven, that no one will get.
They say they want, to be reincarnated as a crawfish;
Don’t get me wrong, it’s quite a good wish.
The reason being, their tail would be pinched and their head would be sucked;
Better than a chicken, that would be plucked.
On eating crawfish, here’s my advice;
Never touch your eyes, or your privates, not once or twice.
You’ll feel the burn of the spices, and it will hurt;
Then obscenities, you will blurt.
I love crawfish, I can’t say it enough;
If only getting the meat, weren’t so tough.
There’s an old myth, about how crawfish came to be;
I believe it to be true, as told to me.
When the French came from Canada, this is by word of mouth:
Their pet lobsters, followed them South.
And by the time, they met up again;
The lobsters, were very thin.
This is a story, I laughed at when heard;
But you can take it, for my word.
I love my mini lobsters, with butter sauce;
Eat them up, then make a good toss.
Nothing beats, a good family crawfish boil;
Especially, after a week of hard toil.
I’ll eat crawfish, until I’m dead;
Pinching the tail, and sucking the head.
And in Heaven, it’ll be my first request for something to eat;
Having crawfish with loved ones, is hard to beat.