I encountered a dolphin from an underwater land,
Who clicked—“A quaint pineapple lays
under the sea. . . . Down the path, to Bikini Bottom,
A clam scribes, the Krusty Krab,
And reaks grease, with a hearty crew,
Tell that its owner bore well those dollars incoming,
Which yet to open, gathered a large crowd,
The spatula that flipped, and the squid that dreaded;
And in the doorway, a yellow square appears:
My name is SpongeBob, Square of Pants;
Look on my Patties, ye Savory, and behold!
Filling the tables. Across the bend
Of that colossal Resturant, impatient and jealous,
The misguided Chum Bucket emptied across the street.”