Fishing Reasons

Fish can be bought in the market place, So it isn't the fish I'm after. I want to get free from the care-drawn face And back to an honest laughter, I want to get out where the skies are clean And rest by a river's brink, I want to get out where the woods are green And I want a few hours to think. Oh, it isn't the fish I am greedy for, It's the chatter and song of birds, And the talk of trees that I've known before. I am weary of selfish words. I want to stretch out, just my soul and I, In a place from the strife afar, And let a few care-filled hours pass by As I think of the things that are. Oh, it isn't the fish that I go to get, Though there's joy in a swishing line And a splendid thrill when my grip I set And a small mouthed bass is mine! But my soul seems cramped in the stifling air That is heavy with talk of gain And I want to get out where the world is fair And there isn't so much of pain. Fish can be bought in the market place But I long for the running streams, And I want to be free from the care-drawn face And the city of dreadful dreams. I want to stretch out, just my soul and I On a sun-kissed river shore, And be, as a few mad hours rush by, The man that I am, once more.