fishermans daughter
the fishing pole is ready
my victims are as good as in my mouth
her little mind was heady
on her way, she turned down south
the birdies chirped throughout the dale
April approaching made March less grim.
Night crawlers were singing in their pail
Not knowing what was in store for them.
the fishing pole was plunked into the water.
Bass and bluegill fought over the worms.
A terrific day for a fisherman’s daughter.
Enough lunch for six pachyderms.
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