The Right Whale is a sporty swell
Although he's vast in girth
He's sixty feet from nose to tail
And grows to ninety tons from only one at birth.
Cruising into harbour out to find a date,
On the lam from icy Ross Sea deeps,
He flips and flaps his tail to find a mate
And serenades each lady ship with acrobatic leaps
With a six-foot Jolly Roger
And half a ton of goolies
He's got a lot to offer
In the matter of yours' trulys
But he'll flounder for the good oil in the CBD tonight.
As his Miss Right's not a bright lights clubber,
With our Splash Club mermaids too slippery and slight
To warm Antarctic blubber.
Expect no fireworks then for Tohorā Matariki
No sounding out of Maggie Mays by Moby Dick:
For such whales-of-a-time are far too tricky
And leviathans are all at sea in Wellington / Poneke.
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