Gotta rise with the light, get those sticks
With lines on which flies we tied ’em.
We’ll sip on brandy with our hands
Clasped on the glasses, astride ’em.
That’s booze we got a glassful to drain--
A bit early to abide ’em.
Try liquor before you’re taking off
Drink a bit before your sinker’s dropped
Into the drink, out of your creel, where it’s plopped.
Got Louise, yeah, your mother, on the line.
Goin’ fishin’ with yo’ mama; my codpiece is primed.

In the parking lot at the lake, we make
Bligh-man yucks ’bout the sea, main.
She’s an alright girl who whispers
About escapades that make me strain
Both my ears--that’s right, she talks about the night
She made love in midflight with some guy on a big plane.
Louise, she’s a sight, that is clear
Indelicate, I ask could I see ’er
Sometime to go somewhere and dine and have beer.
Then yo’ mama says, “Dear,
My boast of the sex with he bound on the plane was misplaced.
Let’s go fishin’,” says yo’ mama.
She’s lake-bound posthaste.

My dipstick-hoist lost, I take my eyes off her leeringly.
It sags now my MILF-stirred me, no more upward veeringly.
Far from bringing my crane up,
Her words ungirded me, spearingly.
I’ve sure got pure azure balls;
It’s sure for this dish I fall. . .
Mother, recall I while my maul backward, sackward crawls.
Wow! That’s a sex bane,
Now there’s no hard to get on.
So it’s fishin’ with yo’ mama
Steelhead, unlike me, will spawn.

By boat’s side, you see ’em:
This fishery boasts, a huge pile
Of moist flesh you’ll score from this natation--
Drop your line and wait a while.
Her moans increasing ’cause just now she spied some blue[gill]s;
She grabs my rod, and I’m all smiles.
Then she fingers it; ball bower’s pleased,
The swelly place women’s thrall-squeezed.
Oh, the mixed metaphors have increased;
Tugs on line ain’t ceased.
Those schools with fins ought to fly
Into the boat, that’s the rule,
But she’s fishin’ now, yo’ mama,
For bream with just the right tool.

She’s meddling with my flounder
That’s distending with a flared fin.
Playing with the hake that quakes at my pair-o’ sight,
Out’s my trout; she flays at the splayed skin.
And Louise has her ways
To extract tuna from the can,
And she prepares my cod for ling.
It is a pufferfish that will blow
Till its spines start to put on a show;
Then inflected, erect they do go,
In fishing, she now schleps my Coho,
Then grabs at till she has gaffed my Ono
I’ve never had such fish luck, you know.
My codcupiscence does grow.
Then my halibut turns into jellyfish that’s been strained
From this fishin’ with your mama; my clam chowder is drained.