There was a true fish among our crew: A gypsy, a hadji, a wandering Jew - A beachcomber, gadabout, but no fool, For
she had once enrolled in a great school, Where in her spare time she played backgammon And some chess. She was a Chinook
salmon.
Such a sharp, quick, sparkling student was she That from school she earned an advanced degree In navigation. She probed
currents swift And searched the stars. She had an eerie gift Of memory. She could recall the place, the very spot
Where she was born. No, she had not forgot Though years had passed and she was far at sea Her brook of birth:
She kept it lovingly. So she studied the sun's polarized light, And how to guide herself by it; at night, She'd
use her nose. For her river of birth, She was taught in school, was unique on earth. Each whiff, speck, snip, spot,
or iota Each whit, trace, touch, tinge, or scintilla Of odor from her stream she'd know at once. For she would
not leave that school a dunce. And so, soon upon her graduation She left with her peers on a migration. They
charted a course 'cross a stretch of sea, Sniffing each streamlet and tributary Up and down the coast. Many miles
did they roam: "LETS GO ON. THIS ONE DOES NOT SMELL LIKE HOME!"
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