It was Sunday, Monday, doesn’t really matter
Snail woke up and was covered in batter
Chef looked down, said ‘What’s up mate?’
Snail screamed ‘Get me off this plate!’

Sometimes chef’s they make mistakes
They chew your chips and lick your steaks
But Snails are not someone to mess with
This snail had been truly tested.

He shook the batter from his shell
And showered off that vinegar smell
He marched on down (well, as snails do)
To the fruit stall run by Mr Kazoo

‘Drop that melon and listen here
I woke up and was battered in beer,
It’s not right and I’m making a stand
Grab your biggest strawberry and put it in my hand.’

Mr Kazoo he knew the deal
He knew how being battered could feel
He gave a nod a went out back
Returning soon with a huge rucksack

‘Now, this is something I’ve been brewing
For if someone’s having trouble pooing
The biggest, bestest, fruit born merry
The world’s only ex-lax strawberry.’

The Snail he shivered, then he smiled
He said ‘Can you mind my shell for a while?’
And in its place he put the sack;
Turned with a nod, and marched on back.

By now the time was just past noon
The chef was whistling an Irish tune
The Snail crept in and filled his broth
With the strangest fruit he’d ever heard of

He went out front and changed the sign
To read ‘Free broth! (For valentines!)’
The people flooded in to eat
And chef, well, he was rushed off his feet.

The people came and the people ate
Each person smiling and clearing their plate
But soon enough the smiles would crumble –
There came a most unpleasant rumble

A mass surround sound churning groan
That made the people curl and moan
It made the chef put down his ladle
And witness the horror on every table

The chef ran round with paper towels
But was overwhelmed by the strength of bowels
The people screaming ‘Don’t eat the food!’
Meant Chef had to quit and be a toilet cleaning dude.

The snail he clapped and cheered and danced
He skipped and frolicked, laughed and pranced
And if he started feeling bad
He’d remember the near-death morning he’d had.

Now, revenge is not a thing of pride
Not something nice people exercise
But if ever you’re offered a gourmet platter
Remember the tale, and just eat the batter.