It’s a Moray by Jeffrey Moran
On vacation on a Caribbean isle,
You dive near a reef for awhile.
Of all the creatures you may meet down there,
A special one of which you must beware.
If it’s slimy and green and its big jaws look mean, it’s a moray.
The one in the reef with the two sets of teeth, it’s a moray

Their small beady eyes do not see well.
But their noses tell all about sea smells.
They wait in a coral reef crack.
And when prey swims by, they attack.
So, if it’s skinny and long with teeth like King Kong, it’s a moray.
And its long dorsal fin, behind its head begins, it’s a moray.

They dart out with jaws open wide.
Pharyngeal teeth hold the food tight in side.
Down the gullet it goes without a chew.
Then back to the crack where it’s waiting for you.
So, when you swim in the sea and an eel bites your knee, it’s a moray.
When you dive near a reef and an eel bites your beef, it’s a moray.

Two hundred kinds of morays in the sea.
On fish and crustaceans they feed.
Well hidden with their camouflaged skin.
Smooth and no scales or pectoral fins.
When an eel swimming by takes a part of your thigh, it’s a moray.
If it just won’t let go after chomping your toe, it’s a moray.

When an eel bites your arm and then does some more harm, it’s a moray.
If it looks like a snake and its teeth make you quake, it’s a moray.

Though you scream and you beg, but it still chews your leg, it’s a moray.
When it looks for snack and comes straight for your back, it’s a moray.

When the couplets till come ‘til you run out of rum, it’s a bore, eh?
When the rhymes that you hear make the audience disappear, it’s a bore, eh?