If a trout bites my hook when I don’t look,
How come he don’t when I do?

Maybe he’s an ornery dude and
Can’t stand a fisherman who’s rude
And takes me for a fool

A fool I may be, but ornery I ain’t
And my friends will tell you so.

I’m a fun loving guy although I’m quite shy,
But all my friends think I’m too bold.

The longer I fish, the smarter the trout,
But I become more stupid without a doubt.

I’ve read all the books, be that as it may,
I’ll break a hook and not even look
Till it’s much too late in the day.

I sit on the bank as my beer goes rank,
And I figure it’s time to go.

I cuss my bad luck as I look for my truck
And wonder if I’m getting too old.

I think to myself, "old trouts must have sense"
As I inwardly wince and store my gear and pole.

I’ve caught not a thing, but I can still sing
Cause fishing has replenished my soul.

Jimmy D. Moore
Woodway, Texas
Copyright May 22, 2001

(published with permission).