Fishy Stories

'Twas the night before Christmas and all down the pier, All the ragworm were wriggling on my dangling gear. And then from the waves, in their tide-turning crash, I reeled in a small fish that did splish, splosh and splash. 'Twas a five-bearded rockling, its whiskers aquiver As I held it aloft, and its body did shiver. It looked at me glumly, its eyes big and round; With its gills it implored me, though it gave no sound. I...

It was the wettest day of the year. The rain splattered down, thumping into the proud roses until they drooped their newly-humbled heads, forcing the baby bees to stay at home and swarm all over each other until their fathers gave them short, stinging slaps and told them to settle down. It was, it must be said, a day for fishing.But the poor old Magic Dragon, in his many, many travels, far and wide and back again, had onl...