In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

72 Portuguese Lobster Lobsters? These we are? With us cast in these nets? Their whips we must take With sealed mouths as we’re laid In ambush to untrap The like of Von Trappe Who for sunrise runs Over the ranges To avoid the icy cold hands of death Yet, drags none down while he waits his last breath. They’ve made us lobsters, we must say! We’ve made ourselves crabs, we must say! This curtain must be on blame game drawn Then joy shall we hug, take and wear her crown! Won’t Sink in Sync Mum bent over with me on her back! In the fields she shovels with a hoe! And as I ride high on this horseback I know not I add to the stones These stones she shovels with same hands Firm to grip and hold me not to sink Where life she shine not a piece of cake And gives the relay baton I take Ne’er to savour cake on armchair But for young me to get off the chair And should with her in her aches slip in sync On this road of life I plod and won’t sink. ...

Share