We’ve commenced our journey backward through Webster’s 3rd. I’m picking a word near the end of each entry for each letter—a word that interests me for some reason or a word I’d not ever known before—and surrounding it with a frayed coat of doggerel.
Words that flew into my life from Webster’s 3rd …
a long bag net kept open by a series of hoops
Poor Sammy Salmon didn’t like
The tales he’d heard about the fyke.
Some friends he’d lost—some family, too—
So he’d decided what he’d do
If ever he were caught in one
And feared his future would be done,
He’d stay right near the opening—
And when the fish guy dragged the thing
Up to the rocks upon the shore,
He’d leap right out—avoid the gore
He’d heard about. But when it came—
And he was caught—he learned how lame
His plan had been. For he was snared,
And, sadly, no fish really cared.
They all swam by, their dreams secured
By ignorance. And Sammy toured
The plant where salmon, sliced and cleaned,
Are readied for the market. “Fiend!”
Was Sammy’s final salmon thought—
And wished that he had not been caught.
Oh, so it is with all of us.
We learn we’re cooked, and then we cuss.