Your children bring back treasures
From the seashore, things espied.
It behooves you to check closely
That no corpses cling inside.
Though there may not be a’swimming
A lowlier creature than the whelk,
In a week or so, in Junior’s room,
There’ll be no more powerful smelk.
Note: As a child, I spent a half-supervised hour during my brother’s boring seaside cross-country meet digging in the sand, excavating the jawbone of what was likely a deceased canine. I was not allowed to keep my specimen. I was “allowed” to ride the several hours home with my freezing fingers outside the car window, then “assisted” with multiple scrubbings to get the smell off them. Ah, the smell of de-ceas…ed canine. (Too far for that one, I know. *shrug*)