Shall I compare thee to a briny bivalve?

Thou art more moist and more delectable.

Rough tides may shake the pearl within thy salve,

But thy sweet liquor makes my cock full swell.

Sometimes too hot the sun doth beat thy shell,

And often is thy golden treasure hid;

But every shuck, a story I could tell –

The opening is as I have always bid.

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his sway,

When in these lips I taste thy tender meat;

So long as men can breathe, or oysters play,

So long lives this, and this gives life to – sweet.

But Shakespeare never knew, when he did write,

An oyster’s pearl is wetter by moonlight. 

Sera and Orin