- Oh, some folks boast of quail and toast,
- Because they think it's tony;
- But I'm content to owe my rent
- And live on Abalone.
-
- Oh, Mission Point's a friendly joint
- Where every crab's a crony;
- And true and kind you'll ever find
- The clinging Abalone.
-
- He wanders free beside the sea
- Where 'er the coast is stony;
- He flaps his wings and madly sings,
- The plaintive Abalone.
-
- He hides in caves beneath the waves,
- His ancient patrimony;
- And so 'tis shown that faith alone
- Reveals the Abalone.
-
- The more we take, the more they make
- In deep sea matrimony;
- Race suicide cannot abide
- The fertile Abalone.
-
- By Carmel Bay, the people say
- We feed the Lazzaroni
- On Boston Beans and fresh sardines
- And toothsome Abalone.
-
- Oh, some throw rice, and some throw dice,
- And some throw cascaroni,
- But Eve, by hell, will throw a spell
- Around the Abalone.
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- I telegraph my better half
- By Morse or by Marconi;
- But if the need for speed arise,
- I'll send an Abalone.
-
- Some live on hope, some live on dope,
- And some on alimony;
- But my Tom Cat and I get fat
- On tender Abalone.
-
- Oh, some drink rain, and some champagne,
- Or brandy by the pony;
- But I will try a little rye
- With a dash of Abalone.
-
- Oh, some like jam, and some like ham,
- And some like macaroni;
- But bring to me a pail of gin
- And a tub of Abalone.
-
- Oh, some folks think the Lord is fat,
- Some think that He is bony;
- But as for me, I think that he
- Is like an Abalone.
-
- (A few years back, we added our own stanza based on all the diver excitement
surrounding John Pepper's amazing world-record-breaking 12 5/16 inch red abalone:)
-
- Some folks are neat, and some are sweet,
- And some are merely phony;
- But if they gab 'bout twelve inch ab,
- We're sure they're all baloney!
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