So many times we'd sneak away,
Just Dad and I together;
Sitting and waiting for a bite,
In any kind of weather.

Dad would sometimes sit and read,
Or stare at me with pride;
I was always happy,
Just being by his side.

Some summer days we'd take a walk,
To our favorite fishing hole;
We'd have a can of fresh-dug worms,
And my specially made cane pole.

Sometimes my fish weren't very big,
But "keepers" they would be;
Just because my Dad knew,
How much they meant to me.

When each springtime rolls around,
I find myself wishing;
Every boy and girl in this old world,
Knew the joy of fishing.