Fishing with Grandpa,
Grandma fished too.
Rainy or Shiny,
They knew what to do.
"Come to the Dock now",
"They're biting, you know",
Off like a line of ducks
they often did go.
Up above in the sky,
Quacking is heard,
The little troupe looked
as the brook they passed by.
Nearby the raccoons chattered
as they scurried away,
Looking for food to store
safely away.
The deer crossed the path soon,
They hurried on too.
As our bunch traveled by,
Such a motley crew.
It's almost too cold now
to go fishing for dinner,
But the thrill of the quest
Is the goal of the venture.
