Oh to shiv a shucker mountain,
Watch the pile of clam, oyster shells balloon.
I'll make a plenty large shucker mountain. . .
Hear 'em clinkin' as I heave 'em toward the moon,
I'm reachin' for the moon.

I hope to get it up there
Out of the filthy air
'cause clamshell smell can be bad,
When I'm finished, I'll be glad.

Oh to build a shucker mountain,
Watch the pile of clam, oyster shells balloon,
I'll make a plenty large shucker mountain. . .
Hear 'em clinkin' as I heave 'em toward the moon;
Friends speak: "He is a loon."

As I hurl shells on the pile,
Folks confirm, the stench is vile.
They would like to sink each boat
That brings the mollusks I tote.

Whoa! It's big, my shucker mountain,
Watch the pile of clam, oyster shells balloon.
I'll make a plenty large shucker mountain. . .
Jeez! They're stinkin', people heavin' pretty soon,
They're heavin' pretty soon.

I have had to construct stairs
To shlep shells and escape glares
Of the people who kvetch
In between each wretched retch.

They don't dig my shucker mountain,
Sickly barfing and their choler balloons.
"It's too big, that shucker mountain!"
I sense peevishness; I'm hearin' pique like "Goon!
Geek! Freak! Sneak! Reek! Baboon!"

At the top's an abalone*
Shell that at night brightly shone
In the moonlight; I can feel
What will be a dine-out meal.

Whoa! I built a shucker mountain,
Awesome pile of clam, oyster shells ballooned.
I made a plenty large shucker mountain.
At the peak I eat some greenish cheese then swoon. . .
Can't breath here at the moon.


*three syllables; rhymes with "shone"