Grandad and I were once out in his boat,
when an octopus, I did spy.
He was all at sea, and flapping about,
when Gramps saw a tear in his eye.
“Excuse me,” I said “but are you okay?
There seems to be something amiss”
“Im not!” said he “I can’t find my cave,
I got lost when chasing a fish.
He was ever so quick, ever so small
and swam in and out of the weeds.
I chased him, and ate him with tartar sauce
then looked for my home ‘neath the sea.”
“It was the that you found, you’d swam so far?
said Gramps with a nod and a wink.
“I think we should help, can you fit in this jar?”
“I can if I quirt out some ink!”
So with him at the helm, off we did sail,
the octopus, Gramps and me.
We stayed out until dark, to no avail,
when octopus let out a squeal.
“There’s a place I know, white sand on the beach,
and I think I know where it is!
Ninety degrees north, thirty five east,
and my cave is as big as this boat.”
said he, with his eight long arms outstretched, before saying his thanks,
with a fistful of gold from his treasure chest.