Paddles B'mere said..
Bluey MacNab's baby photo
Bluey McNab, The Blue Manna Crab - by Wayne Pantall 9/6/05
Bluey McNab, the blue manna crab, lurks under the Mandurah Bridge.
It's Bluey's lot, avoiding the pot, and chill of a fisherman's fridge.
Never the stooge - he's grown to be huge, by dodging the drop-net and scoop.
Bluey'll snigger - grow ever bigger - determined to not become soup.
Fishermen try - frustrated, some cry - use every trick in the book.
He thinks it's great, whilst nicking their bait, he laughs as he hears them go crook.
Blue's not a fool - he's laid back and cool - as others are going to pot.
For knowing the lark, when it gets dark, he'll nick what the crab-catcher's got.
Blue loves to dance - to fling, jig and prance, and won't miss a fisherman's ball.
At one Crab Fest, Blue bagged a nest, of shonky old cods by the wall.
The more he'd chew - the more Bluey grew - the bigger his appetite got.
The bigger his claws - size of his jaws - less frequently fishermen squat.
Blue knows a prize - a good gauge of size, and slick with a button and zip.
Bluey McNab'll nab two in a grab - with a flash, and gnash, and a nip.
He'll spot a meal to snap out with zeal, and often he won't spare the rod.
As king of them all, Blue has a ball. He's gelded a thousand, the sod.
Mandjar Bay Choir singeth now higher. The bass man'll raiseth, a shriek.
It's choral range, has undergone change. A baritone altoed last week.
Blue's trip to Loch Ness, was where (I guess), he tasted the fruits of the kilt.
No more to roam - a 'True Blue' at home, and watching us now, from the silt.
(abridged version)
