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Her love is in remission.  I’m going fishing.

I’ve heard a lot about the sea.

All I need’s a hole, a tackle box and pole,

a canoe and me.


Ya, I’ll catch a big one.  Then I’ll throw it back.

Then I’ll land another.  And smack it on the head with a thwack.


First I lobster then I flounder.  I’ll drink a forty pounder.

It’s like I’m on a fishin’ quest.

Worried about the view.  I’ll drink two.

It’s an eighty pound test.


Catching and releasing, is out of season.

There’s no limit on my fun.

I got seven on a stringer.  None on my finger.

Here comes the warden.  Got to run.


When I think I’ve caught ‘em I’m snagged on the bottom.

I may have to cut a line.

Wait, I got a bite.  My rod’s tight.

Things may work out fine.


Back at the camp my mood is damp

But the sun begins to shine.

A hot date.  Fish on the plate

Miss Trout runner-up in ’69.


It’s turned into a whale, my fish tale.

Looks like I’m calling it a day.

Nobody can take from me my time out on the lake I see

And the one that got away.

© Audsongs 2014

John, week 15.

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