He rises in the morning <br />Long before the sun. <br />You know he won't be home again <br />Until the night has come. <br /> <br />He gathers up his tackle, <br />And piles up his gear. <br />At four o'clock in the morning, <br />You know Saturday is here. <br /> <br />His minnows are his buddies, <br />His rod is his best friend, <br />His boat, his prized possession, <br />It's life, he will defend. <br /> <br />He says he won't be home late <br />He says that he won't linger <br />Just like the fish, we swallow it <br />Hook, line and sinker! <br /> <br />So, all you football widows, <br />Consider yours, the luck, <br />For all the fish in Charleston, <br />I wouldn't give a buck!<br /><br />Dahlia Rose<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ballad-of-a-fishing-widow/
