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I was on a lake Not walking I was sitting in a boat Not laughing The bearded young fellow Who rowed us to the middle Was annoying me Intensely I said "So you are going to catch a fish then ? And he replied In a twinkle of an eye That "the time was not right for Pike" The air was damp I felt damp And the lake was grey to black I called to my Mother on the bank With her paper and pipe To "stop knitting" But she ignored me My bearded young fellow Rowed us back And he gallantly helped me out I said "I never want to see this lake again" To which he replied "nor me" Its the fickle nature Of the mood of day That can turn you against The things you should love best And in keeping with this universal tide I enjoyed a marvelous day out by a lake Not three weeks later But the bearded man Was replaced by Smooth faced Handsome young buck And I was three weeks older and wiser We caught a fish that day And ate it with tartar sauce All felt beautiful and dreamlike LB 2006
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