The Catch Poem by Ima Ryma

The novice ice fisherman sighed.
Not one single fish had he caught.
He was very dissatisfied
With all the fancy gear he'd bought.
An old timer caught fish nearby,
Obviously having the knack.
'What's your secret? ' He asked the guy.
The old timer just mumbled back.
The novice was shaking his head,
'I'm sorry, I don't understand; '
'Could you please repeat what you said? '
Then, the old timer raised his hand.

He spit something into a cup,
And said, 'Got to keep worms warmed up.'