Sittin’ in the dribbling rain . . . fishin’s a pain
I’d rather watch T.V., this is a strain
Fishin’ with a bloke
It’s drown or sun-stroke
When he catches a fledling four inches long
He calls it fishing . . . I say something’s wrong
He’s yelling at me,
“Caught a big one, see!”
All around water skiers are making wakes
Our boat is rocking, the next great wave takes
Overturned . . . I’m wet;
The bloke won’t leave yet!
Watch the sky clouding over, what can I say?
We’re stuck with each one fishing the bay
My friend don’t eat fish
It isn’t his ‘dish’
Sitting in the dribbling rain . . . fishin’s insane
Can’t he see all this equipment’s in vain?
So delirious
He’s hilarious
Burnt to a crisp with no catch in the pail . . . swell
Might as well sit here and compose for a spell
We’ve spent our bait
There’s no fish on our plate
Watching the splashing water roll right on by
There’s more fishermen than fish in the sky