When we were young boys on our farm.
A fish tale never meant any harm,
We oft were given a look,
When from such a tiny brook,
We claimed a fish as long as your arm.
But then our neighbor named Meg,
Beat the fib and put us down a peg,
By claiming from the same brook,
With not a worm on her hook,
She caught a fish as long as your leg!
Well that truth was quite hard to beat,
Then Summer beat a hasty retreat.
Winter changed the fishing world,
Meg turned from tomboy to girl.
And now this fishing tale is complete!
For John Freeman's "Fishing Limericks"