I used to work as a chef on the sea restaurant Baratie of East blue

You punch me in the face when you are impatient. One day, if you really mess up, I might punch you back.

You whack my head all the time and I never complain. Yet I hit your thumb once and you get angry?

Why don't fish have legs? And why don't birds have little hands? And now that we're at it, why don't humans lay eggs?

I dance on the wind above the foam, My cries are sharp where ships call home. I steal your chips with daring grace, And circle skies by the harbor’s face. What am I?