Gummy, gummy, gummy
is this stuff, also chunky.
I’m teamed on the chumming crew.
Chum is not a sweet thing;
chumming’s not a neat thing,
but it’s something that we gotta do.

Whoa! chum is gross, yeah,
Whoa! chum is stinky.
Though chum we have to throw
out to entreat the
meals that they’ll pull in,
so out the chum must go.

Gunky, stunky chummy
makes tumult in my tummy,
but the catch think it’s haute cuisine.
The chum will bring the fishes
to us; they’ll be dishes.
So we chummers are part of the team.
Kinda like sugar
to fish…entices
them closer to our sloop.
Kinda like honey
to them…not me!
I chum from the deck, poop.

Chum’s akin to honey
to our catch; they love me
as I toss chum to the tide.
Chum to them’s a sweet thing,
such good eating.
The stuff reeks, stinks to the sky.

Whoa! chum is thrown, yeah,
Won’t be chum-stingy;
over the chum will go,
where it entreats the
meals that they’ll pull in.
Now it’s chunks I must blow.

[fade on protracted seasickness]