Walking Down The Country Road

Walking down the country road, The middle overgrown with Johnson grass. To the canal bank, with the singing toads, And the greenish water so like glass. A sprig of grass, between my lips, A folgers can brimming with worms. My fishing pole firmly in my grip, And for the carp, bran flakes and corn. Barefoot and shirtless, in the summer sun, A battered straw hat on my head, Gonna sleep on the bank till the day is done, Be better sleep, than in my bed. Don't care if the fishing is bad or good, I just want to be alone. Don't care for people stuffy and rude, Be quite a while till I Head for home. 3/27/13 Alton Texas