Worry Wart Stew

Oh my guts!

My guts! My guts! My guts!

All twisted in knots

Fulla if, ands and buts.

Hope the whiskey mighta caught it

But no, no, no…

Arms wrapped tigher than punching dough.

God please help me!

What’d I do?

Spear to the bread basket

Through and through.

Wiggle on the line like you want to be free.

Jump like they want you to

Cant you see?

Fishing is a sport, sport.

Your job is to report

Schools ripe for their plunder.

You don’t take no number.

Go to the front line.

You’ll do just fine.

Is that your tummy rumbling?