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?
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