Cod fress, ye ferry gentlemen;
It’s coming soon to taste.
Remember: time to sa-avor—
Don’t gorge this fish in haste
To save you from Satanic sour
In gut. . .tastes too fast-paced.
Oh, the tide brings us comfort food and joy,
Comfort food, joy.
Oh the ti-ide brings us comfort food and joy.

This mess, good men, is fish-fry swell,
So fress up and don’t scorn
It; as the French say: “Ma-anger!”
And do no look forlorn,
Because the sous chef, La-arry,
Used transfat-free oil, corn.
Yes, there’s frying of comfort food, but boys,
Comfort-food joy comes from bi-iting
Comfort food that ain’t cloyed.

No cod won’t have you get fatter,
Unlike dressed, marbled game
And food supplied by she-eperds,
’cause on the tide it came.
And it of scales, not wool, is shorn
No one can cod-defame.
It’s a tide thing, this comfort food—enjoy!
Come and enjoy.
It’s a ti-ide thing, this comfort food—enjoy.

Fear not, then, and just fare thee well
(If you’ll pardon this slight
Use of paronomasi-a);
This isn’t sturgeon night.
So freely nosh, don’t fear bustin’
The stays that hold pants tight.
You won’t widen where cummerbund’s deployed:
Tummy-deployed.
You won’t wi-iden where cummerbund’s deployed:

We fetch ’em when the tide is in—
We’re joyous when we find
A mess, a lot, for fee-eeding,
And though they’re fried. . .not brined!
After they’re caught, we filet them
And then on cod you’ll dine.
So get tines in to comfort food—enjoy!
Luncheon enjoy.
So get ti-ines in to luncheon and enjoy.

You are graced with the best, dear men,
So savor on your taste
Buds. Encore blandishment: “Manger!”
(This isn’t a bland dish, OK?!);
Let nothing go to waste.
It’s luscious! Larry’s owed a round
Of applause so make haste
And give tidings to cook who has deployed,
Cook who’s deployed.
Give good tidings to the cook; make his mood buoyed.

Now chew and gorge; clink and raise up
Your glasses; we’ve a case
And it’s a cru that’s mother’ good!
We’ll all get shit of face
And roll around, so drink it up—
Don’t bugger, just embrace—
Just a guy thing of comforting the boys,
Comforting boys.
But no guy things chinked ’neath cummerbunds of boys!