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A Bridge Too Far

A fisherman entered my favourite pub
He said he’d been fishing for that evening’s grub
He carried some salmon, a couple of brace
Which rather explained the big grin on his face

He said to the landlord, ‘Can I use your fridge,
For these fish I caught from down under the bridge?’
‘But how did you catch them?’ the landlord enquired
‘That’s easy,’ he said, ‘but a mate is required.’

‘You don’t need a rod for there’s no need to angle,
Your mate holds your feet while upturned you dangle.
And when a fish jumps you must grab him real quick
And knock him out cold with a rock or a brick.’

Mick, in the corner, gave Patrick a wink
‘That’ll do me,’ he said, ‘finish your drink.’
Soon Patrick’s over the bridge where he dangles
With Mick holding tight onto each of his ankles

Suddenly Pat shouted, ‘Pull me up, Mick.’
Mick gasped, ‘Have you got a fish, boy, that was quick’
But Patrick screamed, ‘No, but I hear a loud humming’
‘So, pull me up now... there’s a bloody train coming!’

Copyright © Terry Flood

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