(pronunciation: "LOB-STAH DIN-NAH")
The pain in Maine stays mainly in the lobster pot;
Must dunk the living critters when it’s boiling hot!
They may wiggle, squirm, and cry,
But they were born to die,
To feed hungry Mainers who like them a lot.
The lobster’s an ugly beast with crusty brown armor;
Pinchers large and vicious so that none can harm ‘er.
But boats with traps and fishermen
By the hundreds pull them in
And send them off to plates that are much warmer.
When cooked in boiling water, the critter turns bright red.
Then it's pulled forth dripping. Oh, what fun lies ahead!
With nutcracker you must
Crack open his crust,
And search out bits of meat from tail to head!
It’s juicy, hard work and it makes quite a mess.
But, if you get lazy, you’ll harvest much less.
So crack, dig and eat awhile,
As you eat, you’ll surely smile,
An experience to last a life-time, I confess!
The cuisine of the world tastes great from west to east.
There’s curry, borsch, tofu, for man and for beast.
Don’t forget truffles, bratwurst, and rice,
Or fish and chips, and pastries so nice.
As for us, we’ll remember our Maine lobster feast!