Fishin’!
If you like to go out fishin’
you should get some recognition
as a masochist, a connoisseur of pain.
In a break from my employment
I once tried it for enjoyment,
but I swore I’d never tackle it again!
First the line became all tangled,
then my thumb got badly mangled
by the hook, a nasty, sinister device
that was fashioned by the Devil
(sorry, Wazza, I’m with Neville!),
and the agony it caused was far from nice.
As I leapt about and ranted
I was suddenly decanted
from the boat just like a bottle pops its cork.
To the laughter of the women
I was forced to do some swimmin’,
and they reckoned that I looked a total dork.
I was shivering and freezing,
and the pain was hardly easing,
when they hauled my sodden body back on board,
and, in case you might have wondered,
yes, I promptly up and chundered
in the esky where our dinner had been stored.
So don’t talk to me of fishin’,
for it’s been my life’s ambition
to get nautical pursuits completely banned.
Give me cricket, footy, tennis,
for the sea is just a menace,
and I like my sporting pleasures on dry land!
© David 13/01/15
