Walking around a lake named Fowler
I met a man, one named mauler
Pooling our money, a couple dollars
Enabled us to purchase crawlers
Fishing from the silent shore
Who could ever want for more?
After sharing his dream of owning a trawler
The man arose, seeming taller
At the end of the night
It only seemed right
Since his girl was home, and all alone
That he should pick up his phone and call her
Moral of the story: Fishing may be painful
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