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.