Out Fishin’

A feller is n't thinkin’ mean,

Out fishin’;

His thoughts are mostly good an’ clean,

Out fishin’.

He does n't knock his fellow men,

Or harbor any grudges then;

A feller's at his finest when

Out fishin’.

The rich are comrades to the poor,

Out fishin’;

All brothers of a common lure,

Out fishin’.

The urchin with the pin an’ string

Can chum with millionaire an’ king;

Vain pride is a forgotten thing,

Out fishin’.

A feller gits a chance to dream,

Out fishin’;

He learns the beauties of a stream,

Out fishin’;

An’ he can wash his soul in air

That is n't foul with selfish care,

An’ relish plain and simple fare,

Out fishin’.

A feller has no time fer hate,

Out fishin’;

He is n't eager to be great,

Out fishin’.

He is n't thinkin’ thoughts of pelf,

Or goods stacked high upon a shelf,

But he is always just himself,

Out fishin’.

A feller's glad to be a friend,

Out fishin’;

A helpin’ hand he'll always lend,

Out fishin’.

The brotherhood of rod an’ line

An’ sky and stream is always fine;

Men come real close to God's design,

Out fishin’.

A feller is n't plotting schemes,

Out fishin’;

He's only busy with his dreams,

Out fishin’.

His livery is a coat of tan,

His creed — to do the best he can;

A feller's always mostly man,

Out fishin’.