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three thousand five hundred and ninety two
Three thousand five hundred and ninety-two fish in the sea
And I had to find a catfish who took a bite out of me
The waves were crashing, but I still felt his teeth okay.
That murderous fish bit me, then went gliding away.
Three thousand five hundred and ninety-two grains of sand
Landed in my bucket when I finally found myself back on dry land.
A frog came over to give me a little understanding and empathy.
The catfish had tried to take a bite out of him too, you see.
Three thousand five hundred and ninety-two steps to my car.
If I had known my leg was going to hurt, I would not have parked so far.
Clyde the catfish got you, eh? An old timer in a fishing hat asked me.
He’s the orneriest and oldest fish in this deep blue sea.
Copyright ©
Caren Krutsinger
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