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Holiday Valley Ski Resort

Gone Fishing With Dad
[Part 1: Gone Fishing With Dad, The Poem
 More of this Feature
• Part 1: Poem Backgropund
 Join the Discussion
"Any of you got a poem to share?"
  Related Resources
• "Fisherman Growing Old" by David Bass
• "Ode to a Smallmouth
" by Jim Pope
• "A Fisherman's Prayer" by David Bass
Elsewhere on the Web
In-Fisherman Magazine

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• One Year Ago - 3/6/00 - Fishing Spoons
Two Years Ago
03/01/99 - Seeking Stratos Info
Three Years Ago - 03/02/98 - Okeechobee Waffles

Nell Ford Hann/ Chuck Hann


My Dad meant so much to me,
When I was growing up;
He taught me love of nature,
And how to fish and hunt.

We'd take our little car-top boat,
And put it in the pond;
But Momma wouldn't let us go,
'Til we'd mowed the lawn.

She'd fix a Dagwood sandwich,
With chips and soda pop;
She knew when we went fishing,
It'd be dark before we'd stop.

So many times we'd sneak away,
Just Dad and I together;
Sitting and waiting for a bite,
In any kind of weather.

Of course, our pup would tag along,
We named him Jiminy;
'Cause that's exactly what I said,
When Dad brought him home to me.

Dad would sometimes sit and read,
Or stare at me with pride;
I was always happy,
Just being by his side.

Some summer days we'd take a walk,
To our favorite fishing hole;
We'd have a can of fresh-dug worms,
And my specially made cane pole.

Sometimes my fish weren't very big,
But "keepers" they would be;
Just because my Dad knew,
How much they meant to me.

When each springtime rolls around,
I find myself wishing;
Every boy and girl in this old world,
Knew the joy of fishing.

Next page > Poem Background > Page 1, 2

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