THE FINAL CONFLICT

This morning, at the crack of dawn,
Is when I got that big fish on!
I set the hook, then, gave him line,
And, knew that he would soon be mine.
The fury set me on my heels.
He rocked my boat and smoked my reel.
Two hundred yards screamed off the spool.
I'm sure he branded me a fool.
He pulled me left and jerked me right!
I fought that fish with all my might!
Don't say this is a fantasy.
He towed the boat far out to sea!
My situation soon grew tough.
The wind blew hard. The sea turned rough.
My boat was swamped, and, then went down.
I guess that's when I must have drowned!
But, look Saint Pete! Oh, bless my soul!
I didn't drop my fishing pole!
As you can see, my line's still tight,
And, I'm about to win this fight.
That fish will, surely, meet his fate.
I'll drag him through your Pearly Gate!

My reckless, foolish, redneck son,
I hate to ruin your fishing fun.
The time has come. This, too, must pass.
Your foe is neither shark nor bass,
Nor, other species inbetween.
My son, you've hooked a submarine!

Copyright, Gordon Hand 2004