Recently I watched a small fishing boat unloading trays of whelks in the dark at Wells harbour-side in Norfolk. Whelks are a sort of snail. I discovered that in Victorian times they were the equivalent of our modern-day kebab. Apparently, after a night on the gin, a whelk or four slipped down a treat…

Whelks from Wells,
snails in shells.
Slip well in,
after a night on the gin,

What’s not known,
is how you’d groan,
with realisation dawning,
The following morning!

Have a great week. Go on, be brave, try a whelk today!!

©Baldock Bard 2016
for more verse click on ‘HOME’ above!