The time of crime was ten o’clock,

When old man Harry strolled to his boat.

Out to catch a mermaid, or so he had said,

And it seems rumors had spread, as the trident hit his throat.

The depths had been quietly listening, while he’d been so careless.

Eagerly telling others how he’d be the town’s next star,

A glass of whiskey in one hand,

At the shoreside bar.

And when old man Harry was analyzed,

They found insult to injury.

The trident was poisoned,

To maximize his misery.

So while he lay broken on the deck,

Writhing in pain,

He could feel his lungs shrivel,

Air shortening to his brain.

What a cruel way to die,

Don’t you think?

Rest in peace old man Harry,

We’ll remember you over a drink.