There's a boy I know.
When he's got a fishing pole in hand, rubber boots on feet, and an easy river, all three,
He's about as content as a boy could be.
No matter that the bugs might be thick, the wind might be blowing, the tummy might be growling, the throat might be parched. He's fishin', and he's aimin' to stay for hours on end.
That boy I know.
