O To Be An Octopus

O, to be an octopus exploring ancient wrecks

Popping through their portholes and sitting on their decks

A large exotic octopus with colour changing skin

That switches its appearance to match the mood I’m in

Or perhaps a tiny octopus that tickles swimmers’ feet

Before it squirts to safety in the murky ocean’s deep

I’d like to be an octopus with eight long arms or more

And communicate with divers with advanced semaphore

If I could be an octopus, I’d fill my days with leisure

Collect gold spoons, or count doubloons from chests of sunken treasure

Why can’t I be an octopus? I love their bulbous faces

And isn’t it amazing that they fit in tiny spaces?

Please can I be an octopus? I won’t kick up a stink

Unless of course you tread on me and I cover you with ink

How I’d love to be an octopus, enjoying my safari

While dodging those Italians with a taste for calamari

Will I ever be an octopus? The chances seems remote

But if I do, I’ll visit you and climb aboard your boat