A leather bodice, of gunmetal grey,
Of polished iron, for which I overlay.
Woven in chains, I shine like mercury,
A knight I am not, of the 17th century.
I float like a butterfly, but don’t sting like a bee,
Come dive in Japan, if you want to see me.
We’ll rendezvous as planned, in nearby Ryukyu.
I’ll bring all my friends, just to see you.
Despite my name, of Iron Fe,
You’ll have to work hard, if you want to keep me.
I should have instead, be of sterling silver.
At least that’s what i’m worth – did I make you quiver?
“So I just have to know, if you’ll tell me so,
Will you be my beau, if I shell out the dough?”
Perhaps some day I will, if you pay me my fee.
But to be honest, i’d much rather be free.
Chaetodon daedalma, the Wrought Iron Butterflyfish.