The Fisherman'S Son

When pa comes back home from his trip, All brown and freckle-faced, He's fatter than he's been for months-- There ain't no cloth to waste When he puts on his old fall suit And sits out on the lawn, And tells about the fish he caught-- But my! how ma does yawn!

Pa smokes a puff or two, and then He says, "You ought to see The one I caught on Thursday--long As 'tis from you to me. I had him on the bank; yes, sir, As sure as you are born, And then he jumped right back again--" But ma--how she does yawn!

I got a hook and line that ain't Like pa's, but still it's fun To go down to the creek and fish And keep out of the sun. Ma gives me sandwiches to eat, And when the last bite's gone I guess I go to sleep, sometimes-- At least I know I yawn.

But one day I did ketch a fish; Ma took it, and it weighed A pound, she said; but pa looked cross And said, "It must have strayed." We had it cooked for supper, too, And ma and I ate some; But pa, he wouldn't, and ma laughed; But all she said was "hu-u-m!"