Angling is an ancient pastime
And thousands sit with permit paid
Some stand on the riverbank
Some enter the water and wade
Long held traditions are kept
Yet new innovations are made
As modern anglers try to improve
With every kind of new fangled aid
In wartime when my father was young
And when not fighting or on parade
Was forced as he had no rod and line
To go fishing with a hand grenade
Copyright © Paul Curtis. All Rights Reserved