The agile man stooped low in its bow,
But made no apology for his lack of yellow suspenders.
Our motley crew congregated somewhere in his left armpit,
Crickets announcing the day’s blaze.

Diners decorated with bibs,
We now awaited word as to the specials.
An aproned crustacean chaperoned us
To our linen-smothered tables.
Pincers stretched forward to place the menus,
Count Devon tramped Mr. Crabby into a mushy patty,
Much to the jest of roaring King Henry.

Glancing over the rest,
Mr. Crabby’s twitching eyes found mine,
Conveying only this: Get out,
While you still can. Man fears my pincers,
Yet they are harmless compared to him, the venomous mincer.