The Old, Old Story

I have no wish to rail at fate, And vow that I'm unfairly treated; I do not give vent to my hate Because at times I am defeated. Life has its ups and downs, I know, But tell me why should people say Whenever after fish I go: 'You should have been here yesterday'? It is my luck always to strike A day when there is nothing doing, When neither perch, nor bass, nor pike My baited hooks will come a-wooing. Must I a day late always be? When not a nibble comes my way Must someone always say to me: 'We caught a bunch here yesterday'? I am not prone to discontent, Nor over-zealous now to climb; If victory is not yet meant For me I'll calmly bide my time. But I should like just once to go Out fishing on some lake or bay And not have someone mutter: 'Oh, You should have been here yesterday.'