Hunt the Salmon

I am a salmon, sleek and pink,

I swim the deep, I swim the drink,

My gills are sharp, my fins are keen,

I can’t hear what you really mean.

 

I like to leap the stream and tide,

Do squeeze my scales, they are my pride:

I am as bright as any button,

Although I’ve gone completely mutton.

 

I count up every bank and bed,

My eyeballs straining in my head –

But can’t hear doctors, I’m afraid –

I need a stronger hearing aid.

 

My sonar’s poor, my radar’s shot,

A backbone’s what I haven’t got,

I may be smuggest of the smugs,

But nothing enters through my lugs.

 

Charterhouse was my great shoal:

It farmed me, and removed my soul –

I’m perfect for the household chef,

But WHAT WAS THAT? I’m very deaf.

 

Click here for a Telegraph story

Click here for an i story

 

 

 

29 April 2016

Farmed salmon are going deaf, according to researchers at the University of Melbourne. Jeremy Hunt was accused of not listening to junior doctors.


POETRY KIT WEBRING

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