Of Herring and Quizes

It was mum on the phone, hello dear,

I am at that shop in the market, I’m here,

Can I buy you the herring you like to eat,

You know the schmaltz, it’s my treat,

I hummed and I hawed and thought for a mo,

I fancied the fish, didn’t want to say no,

But it occurred to me that mum would bring it to,

The National Bible Quiz final reception do,

And she would eagerly present me with the dish,

Which although certainly is rather delish,

Has a strong fishy smell, which cannot be hid,

Even by the containers vacuum sealed lid,

And what if it leaked, dripping its oil,

With all that laundered clothing to soil.

What effect on my son, the fishy stink,

Would it hinder his chances, or help him think,

Tactically speaking maybe I should say yes,

But the reality of the competition was I guess,

That something fishy may be considered a sin,

By the judges, to mine and my son’s chagrin,

Lips full of quiz, I declined the offer not caring,

To risk my son’s success for a piece of herring.

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