by Lynn B. Glover
I know of nothing that can happen badly,
When a man goes fishing with a wee laddie.
The poles they carry along with the bait,
Says, ‘Gone fishing early and staying late’.
When a man goes fishing with a small boy,
The lad is as happy as playing with a new toy.
We would sit on the bank and bait our hooks,
We have forgotten work, and school and books.
As we sat there alone on the bank,
Our minds seem to gradually go blank.
However, the excitement is about to begin,
A nibble and the lad will fight to the end.
At times it seems this fish would win,
The lad fights back and looks at me with a grin.
‘Don’t give up the fight, ‘ I shout,
I looked over at the lad and he had caught a huge trout.
The grin has now turned into a large smile,
This smile won’t go away for a long, long while.
‘Look! ‘ he said, ‘At what I did.’
I said ‘That’s a huge fish you caught today, kid.’
There’s one thing that I’m sure,
The lad out fished me with his lure.
Someone asked him, ‘Where have you been? ‘
He answered ‘I have been fishing, and I want to go again.’