A feller isn’t thinkin’ mean,
Out fishin’;
His thoughts are mostly good an’ clean,
Out fishin’.
He doesn’t knock his fellow men.,
Or harbor any grudges then;
A feller’s at his finest when
Out fishin’.
The rich are comrades to the poor,
Out fishin’;
All brothers of a common lure,
Out fishin’.
The urchin with the pin an’ string
Can chum with millionaire an’ king;
Vain pride is a forgotten thing,
Out fishin’.
A feller gits a chance to dream,
Out fishin’;
He learns the beauties of a stream,
Out fishin’;
An’ he can wash his soul in air
That isn’t foul with selfish care,
An’ relish plain and simple fare,
Out fishin’.
A feller has no time fer hate,
Out fishin’;
He isn’t eager to be great,
Out fishin’.
He isn’t thinkin’ thoughts of pelf,
Or goods stacked high upon a shelf,
But he is always just himself,
Out fishin’.
A feller’s glad to be a friend,
Out fishin’
A helpin’ hand he’ll always lend,
Out fishin’.
The brotherhood of rod an’ line
An’ sky and stream is always fine;
Men come real close to God’s design,
Out fishin’.
A feller isn’t plotting schemes,
Out fishin’;
He’s only busy with his dreams,
Out fishin’.
His livery is a coat of tan,
His creed –to do the best he can;
A feller’s always mostly man,
Out fishin’.
Other works by Edgar Albert Guest...
