I pulled a bluegill out of the stream,
With my Garcia pole.
He was so big, I started to scream,
When he went into his death roll.
He was twenty pounds, I swear it's true,
Maybe even thirty five.
And he had this funny orange hue,
I swear this ain't no jive.
He bared his fangs, and roared at me,
As he bit right through my pole.
And he gave me the finn, so I could see,
And then jumped right back in his hole.
Trembling with fright, I chugged my beer,
Thinking of that sixty pound bluegill.
That had turned me white, with a clammy fear,
I think of him now, and still get a chill.
7/2/11 Alton Texas
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