Back in June with the heat of the Florida sun,
Ol' Jerome turned to us to explain what occurred
On the Friday last week when he caught schizophrenia
From the germs on the pole of a Baltimore train.
And we all had a laugh as we drank our cold beer,
But Jerome, he just sat with a worried red look
As we all cast our rods at the blue of the sea
And then settled back down in the chairs with our books.
And when Tim has pulled in a gray tuna of size,
Ol' Jerome moved real close and gazed right in its eyes.
With a shriek and a twitch, he babbled some sound,
As he scampered to starboard and looked back to town.
So we all stopped to stare as Jerome said some prayer—
He fell over the edge as if stunned unaware.
We heard nothing at first as Jerome drifted down,
But then soon from behind, we all heard a sound:
The gray tuna was singing in baritone words,
And we all stood in trance as Jerome was interred.