Walking around a lake named Fowler I met a man, one named mauler Pooling our money, a couple dollars Enabled us to purchase crawlers Fishing from the silent shore Who could ever want for more?
After sharing his dream of owning a trawler The man arose, seeming taller At the end of the night It only seemed right Since his girl was home, and all alone That he should pick up his phone and call her
Moral of the story: Fishing may be painful
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