The Oyster

Found this, on a paper, in a binder, in a box, in my basement.  No clue who wrote it.  Didn’t even know back when I found it and copied it down 12 years ago.

The Oyster
There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell
It was only a grain
But it gave him great pain
For oysters have feelings
Although they’re so plain

Now did he berate
The harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state
Did he curse the government
Cry for election
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection

No – He said to himself
As he lay on a shell
Since I cannot remove it
I shall try to improve it
Now the years have rolled round
As the years always do
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny – Stew

And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow
Now this tale has a moral
For isn’t it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand

What couldn’t we do
If we’d only begin
With some of the things
That got under our skin

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