Classic Poem

Oh! some folks boast of quail on toast
Because they think it's toney;
But I'm content to owe my rent
And live on abalone.

Oh! Mission Point's a friendly joint,
Where every crab's a crony;
And true and kind you'll ever find
The clinging abalone.

He wanders free beside the sea,
Where'er the coast is stony;
He flaps his wings and madly sings —
The plaintive abalone.

By Carmel bay, the people say,
We feed the lazzaroni
On Boston beans and fresh sardines
And toothsome abalone.

Some live on hope, and some on dope,
And some on alimony;
But my tomcat, he lives on fat
And tender abalone.

Oh! some drink rain and some champagne
Or brandy by the pony;
But I will try a little rye
With a dash of abalone.

Oh! some like jam, and some like ham,
And some like macaroni;
But bring me in a pail of gin
And a tub of abalone.

He hides in caves beneath the waves —
His ancient patrimony;
And so 'tis shown that faith alone
Reveals the abalone.

The more we take the more they make
In deep-sea matrimony;
Race-suicide cannot betide
The fertile abalone.

I telegraph my better half
By Morse or by Marconi;
But if the need arise for speed,
I send an abalone.

Oh! some think that the Lord is fat,
And some that He is bony;
But as for me I think that He
Is like an abalone.