Harry The Fish Poem by Phil Ward

Harry the fish they called him,
And it was one damp dismal night,
Fit as a fiddle and boy could he swim,
Put up one hell of a fight.

It wasn’t me who caught him,
T’was Johnny from down the MET,
He literally jumped upon him,
Got himself all soaking wet.

You should have seen him wriggle,
An eel he should have been,
We still have a laugh and a giggle,
Remembering the ridiculous scene.

Now down the pub we sometimes meet,
Have a beer with our old skipper,
Telling tales about him on his beat,
And a copper that captured a kipper.