Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, my petromyzon,
thine round jawless mouth like a small setting sun.
Yon sun, though, hath no rasping tongue in its midst,
like thine: gently drilling through prey thou has kissed.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, thine ammocoetes
(as thine larvae are called) are the belles of the seas:
armed with nary a sucker nor even a tooth,
they dost oozeth thick slime that doth capture their foodth.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, thine seven paired gills
and thine one dorsal nostril dost givest me chills.
Thou art sleek and effective, thy perfect design
is not of evolution, but proves the divine.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, through man-made canals
thou hast swum from the ocean to finer locales:
to Lake Huron, and Erie, and Michigan too,
to Superior, via Lake Ontarioo.
Oh lamprey, dear lamprey, yon Great Lakes are thine,
thou King of the Fishes Who Don’t Have a Spine!