I Fried Him My Way (The Fried Fish Resisting The Dinner Dish)

And now, bedtime is near,

And with fish bones at the trash bin,

My friend, I'll shed some tears,

I'll wash the floor, of that I'm certain,

I fed my wife - she's full,

And more, much more than this,

I fried him my way.

Regrets, I've had a few,

So then you see, there's much to mention,

I did what I had to do,

And cooked him well, 'cause of infection,

I planned the tartar sauce,

10 fishing lines all down the highway,

And more, much more than this,

I fried him my way.

Yes, there were times, you never knew,

He was so tough I couldn't chew,

He got revenge, gave me a clout,

He ate me up and spat me out,

Pinned to my door, crashed through my wall,

'Cause he was fried my way,

I've loved, no laughs just cried,

I wrote my will, covered in bruising,

And now, as oil subsides,

I find it all so amusing,

To think a fish did that,

And may I say, not in a shy way,

Oh, no, oh, no, not me,

I fried him my way,

For what is a man, what has he got?

If not a fish, then he has naught,

To fry some dry banana peels,

And not for girls in some high heels,

The freezer shows I took his blows,

And fried him my way,

Yes, I fried him my way.