Divin\' Deep there\'s guttural
gurgles and burbling bubbles
Jivin\' in the Respirator.
I dive deeper, still deeper
than I\'ve ever been before.
The seabed is littered
with littoral lie-there\'s
just layin\' about,
praying to be picked up
by some swim-on-buy kid like me.
It\'s a jalopy junk-yard down there.
Old shells long discarded by hermit crabs
looking for joyrides in new gigs,
and sporty convertible squats in RV\'s.
Shells discarded are great do-uppers
for crabs putting on some weight.
No one is homeless down there
for every shell discarded,
is reborn to live the ever-after-life
decreed by need and lay-buys
in Davy Jones\' Locker.