Out Fishin’ (edgar a. guest)

 

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'.

Edgar Albert Guest