Barnacle Stan, the sessile man,
Afraid to even look;
A timid fool, his tidal pool
An ancient holy book.
Between its pages, stuck for ages,
Keeping safe from Hell,
For fear of fire, he’ll ne’er inquire,
But stay inside his shell.

Barnacle Stan, he hatched a plan;
The gist of it was this:
He’d stay inside, forever hide,
Cos ignorance is bliss;
He’d sometimes write, with great delight
About his lovely view–
And tell us we should be so free…
I’m not convinced. Are you?

Context.

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