FISH STORY
by Frank YoungYou"ve worked for years, like you had to do
Provided for them, but what about you?
Should you labor on, in selfless giving
Or is it time, for a little living? You"ve got your house, you"ve got your car
An occasional night, spent at the bar
A loving wife, and a kid named Fred
But you need a tractor, out in that shed So you set aside, perhaps a weekend
And follow the light, of your own beacon
You hit the backroads, on a mission
And tell them all, you"re goin" fishin" Down shady backroad, and dusty lane
You search the fencerows, like a man insane
Driven on, by force unknown You"ve got to have one, for your own Back home they wonder, if the Old Man"s daft
He"s never been fond, of water craft
And never owned, a rod or reel
Never came home, with fish-filled creel They speculate, a mid-life crisis
They speak of variety, and how it spices
They think perhaps, some psycho-pill
Would help you make it, up over that hill But that"s not heard, by your deaf ears
You can"t be burdened, by all their fears
You"ve made your move, won"t turn around
Till what you seek, is finally found Then suddenly, in that small clearing
You spot an old, McCormick-Deering
It speaks to you, in rusted voice
The die is cast, you have no choice The price is paid, no second thought
Already proud, of what you"ve bought
You load the relic, behind your truck
And thank the gods, that brought such luck You head back home, your prize aboard
And vow that soon, it"ll be restored
To the fine machine, it used to be
It"s not just iron, it"s history The family greets you, "Hi"ya, Dad"
Certain that you"ve, at last gone mad
They blame the stress, a destructive factor
But what the hell,... you"ve got your tractor!
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