Kinda clammy, kinda wet,
the goldfish kinda needs a vet.
A little pale and looking ill,
the doctor thinks she needs some pills.
The pills won’t do, get a knife,
he’ll operate and save her life.
Too late, too late, she’s looking worse,
hurry, someone call the hearse!
No, stop the hearse, we’ll keep her here
and fry her in some battered beer.