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While on a leisurely swim, I was swallowed by a whale, and inside I met a man who said: I live in a cave in a cove behind a waterfall, my door is always open and tea is always on the stove.
It's a stove made of stones and the bed is made of bones, the bones from a bear whose fur is what I wear.
I asked him is this some kind of terrible joke? I've just been swallowed by a whale and here you are talking Mother Goose.
He smiled and said: fear not your fate my worried stray, myself I come here every day, the fishing's good and so's the view, each day I'd say there's something new.
Why these very boots upon my feet I found around this large whale's teeth; this raft from which I fish and float I did retrieve from yonder throat.
This eccentric mariner didn't seem too worried about our predicament, and for that matter quite cheerful about the whole thing; so I calmed down (which was difficult to do while torrents of water were rushing in with large fish, perhaps tuna, I couldn't be sure;
and I was about to ask if we might be able to leave when my friend said:
Come quickly this way careless swimmer, else we'll be seafood for dinner,
and with that, we took leave from the maw of the great cetacean, and after a journey which I choose not to elaborate here,
we went to his home which was indeed just as he described it, and we drank tea and it tasted like chalk.