Fame and Fortune Calling

The albatross around my neck
sings songs along with me
I feed him cold fish fingers
washed down with Tetley’s tea.

His wings are fixed with gaffer tape
and he strums a red guitar
we may well do a talent show
I’m sure that we’d go far.

In little spangled sailor suits
we’d ply our minstrel fare
based on Sammy Coleridge’s
aged mariner.

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