© Sheila Simmons
Listen to the Poem
Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble, with my fishing pole in hand
Why I almost feel like another Bill Dance, not just an ordinary fisherman.
Forgive me when I stretch the truth, about the one that got away
Why we both know he’s in the lake, waiting to be caught another day.
Calm me oh Lord when my temper flares
When my lines become tangled and I begin to swear.
Help me to look upon my fishing buddy with patience, and grace
Why just look at the big one’s he’s catching I’d like to punch him in the face!
Lord please help me to think up a story, to tell to that wife of mine
I told her I’d be home hours ago, I just lost track of time.