The clams were nestled
All snug in their beds
While visions of plankton
Danced in their heads.

And I in my mantle
And Virginica in her shell
Had just settled down
From a long filtering spell

When out in the marsh
There arose such a clatter
I opened my valves
To see what was the matter.

Worms rose from their tubes,
Scallops blinked their blue eyes;
Clams stuck up their siphons,
Mussels gaped in surprise.

For there,
on the crest of the incoming tide,
Festooned in seaweed,
On a dolphin did ride,

None other than Neptune,
Saint Nick of the deep,
Accompanied by mermaids
Just risen from sleep.

And in his wake,
By the light of old Luna,
I thought I espied
An entire school of tuna;

Not the chunk light variety,
But real albacore(!)
And with them were sturgeons,
Sea bass and more.

Crustaceans too:
Portunus, Penaeus,
Most every variety
Named by Linnaeus.

They all followed Neptune,
Who rode to the beach,
And as he dismounted
They stayed within reach.

With theatrical fanfare
He opened his pack
And poured out his gifts
On the Spartina rack.

He passed out Artemia
(Brine shrimp to you),
Purina fish chow,
And shrimp pellets too.

He had freeze dried krill
And bloodworms galore.
He passed out the goodies
Till there weren't any more.

Not a one was forgotten
Who swims in the sea.
But think on it now,
Does that include me?

That's right he'd omitted
The bivalves completely:
No algae to filter,
No diatoms to treat me!

Then there came a great cry
Of dismay from the muck,
And the bivalves rose up
To the last geoduck,

Demanding to know
(Could there be a good reason?)
Why Saint Nick forgot them
This Christmas season.

Not all clams were bad!
The scallops were ignorant.
The mussels may have conspired,
But the oysters were innocent.

And what of the cockles?
They'd done no one a wrong.
And thus in this vein
The clamoring went on.

Neptune climbed a high rock,
For protection may be,
But it had this advantage-
From the mud we could see

As he flourished his trident,
Silencing the crowd,
Then pronounced in a voice
That was righteously loud:

Frankly, Scallop,
I don't give a clam!

Author: Unknown

OK! This is the Cincinnati Flying Pigs message.-- 2001

I perceive the perpetual porcine poetry polemic is proceding predictably.
I have taken the liberty of modifying this piece of classical literature,
to bring it more in line with the nature of the list.
Art, I hope this wasn't copyrighted!

Everyone knows
That a reindeer can't fly.
He don't got no wings.
We assume that is why.

That myth is exploded;
The truth is now out.
That Santa is pulled
By a critter with snout.

Yes! Up in the sky!
Here he comes! There he goes!
One identifies team
By the shape of the nose.

Bringing presents to kiddies;
TV games, candied figs.
And always delivered
By eight flying pigs.

There's Porky and Bacon;
There's Roger and Ham.
On Sausage and Truffle.
On cyril and Spam.

Oh, see how the wings
Sweep the dark from the night.
A wonderful vision:
The pigs in full flight.

Lord bless you. We wish you
Most Happy New Year.
May Santas eight pigs
Bring you comfort and cheer.

Art Weil

Everyone knows
That a reindeer can't fly.
He don't got no wings.
We assume that is why.

That myth is exploded;
The truth he now bares.
That Santa is pulled
By eight flying sea hares.

Yes! Up in the sky!
See them come! They look swell!
So clearly molluscan,
Though lacking a shell.

Bringing shells to collectors;
Shapes lovely and odd;.
And always delivered
By eight gastropods.

There's Conus and
Oliva; Murex and Bulla.
On, Chlamys and Harpa!
On, Glans and Ampulla!

Oh, see how their mantles
Sweep the dark from the night.
A wonderful vision:
Mollusks in full flight.

Lord bless you. We wish you
Most Happy New Year.
May Santas eight snails
Bring you comfort and cheer.

Paul Monfils

As the New Year and Christmas and Solstice play out.
we remember the people who've left us no doubt,
Our shellin' adventure has just begun,
what with all of the nature, the science, the fun.
So as plankton, before the wild hurricane floats,
we've holiday greetings delivered by boats.
First for R. Tucker Abbott, I hope he can hear,
a chorus of angelfish carolling cheer.
For dear ol' Miss Ethel, of fair Tarpum Bay,
some rum-spiked conch chowder, and for Geerat Vermeij.
Mahalo to Mike Schenk, who showed us his knack,
for gathering marlinspikes in a mesh sack .
And for Bobbi Cordy, here's hoping she'll find,
a fortune of nerites, the emerald kind,
For husband Jim, a man rarely speakin'
some new scuba booties, his old ones were leakin'.
Phyllis Sharpe and Claire Beckman and also Ron Nixon,
get a platter of cracked conch with all the fixin's.
Some tinsel for Harry's Berryman and Lee,
and Bob Doyle, some Cyprea under the tree.
We'll send Dr. Simone who studies such things,
a Xenophora who found itself five golden rings.
For Henk Mienis an undersea coral mennorah,
Ellie Lahn gets a guide to Bahamian flora.
And tho' Martin Tremor won't answer our mail,
We found him a beach towel and shovel and pail.
To The Friends of Gastropods and to SCUM,
we'd like to send a sugarplum.
And for hard-to-shop-for Peter Dance,
a set of videos; Sponge Bob Squarepants.
Chris Takehashi rides a surfboard, not the usual sled,
and because the reindeer baulk at surf, he's using seals intead.
For Karen Vander Ven we wanted something really cute,
but settled on a boardgame toy called "Trivia" Pursuit.
For Lynn Scheu & Linda Brunner who ride herd on this list,
Garlands of seaweeds and peppermint twists.
We made a batch of oyster stew, we thought it would be nice,
for Mr. Wesley Thorson and we're shipping it on ice.
Don Barclay and Gian Carol Paganelli and David Touitou,
Get ConeWars action figures, hope they like them, wouldn't you?
There are Strombus stocking stuffers for Paul Monfils and Tom Rice,
it's our way of saying thank for the info and advice.
And though Andrew Rindsberg isn't lately active on the list,
somehow we'd like to let him know how much he has been missed.
We wish new members for the clubs and that Bailey-Matthews place,
we would sure send lots of shells, if we thought they had the space.
To leave out Art Weil and Helmut isn't fair,
so they're both getting snowballs, delivered by air.
For Colin Redfern and Andrew Sharpe,
a holiday melody played on a Harpa.
Peggy Williams and Patty Jansen get some frequent flier miles,
And a Ristra of Spondylus should give Tom Eichhorst some smiles.
For David Kirsh and Charlotte Lloyd, we propose a New Year's toast,
tho' it's not your standard tipple cuz Scotch bonnets are the most.
Ross Mayhew and Marc Agren, Rich Goldberg and Ms. Underwood,
howe'er you spend your holidays, we're wishing that they're good.
Avril Bourquin, Sylvia Edwards, Barney Winston, Guido Poppe,
oh jingle bells and jingle shells and joy and peace and hope.
To the Lipes, a Maytag washer with a setting just for shells,
And we can't forget our families who put up with all the smells,
We know how special they all are and can't see any reason,
not to send a sailor's valentine, albeit for this season.
To all the folks we meet online, we may not know your face,
you all help make this Conch-L list a very special place.
And if this lengthy doggerel ain't quite your kind of greeting,
well there's button right down there you can use just for deleting.