I don't have a Ph.D., I've never won a thing.
I can not play the violin and can barely sing.
My bank account is overdrawn, credit cards are full.
My dog done run away last week and my pocket knife is dull.
I ain't much of a poet, as I struggle for a rhyme.
My sister's in the loony-bin, my brother's doing time.
Someday I'll have to find a job, but that can wait a while,
My truck's got tires as bald as me and wouldn't last a mile.
The IRS is after me, my kids are into dope,
I'm so far down and out right now there's very little hope
Of climbing up atop the pile; of making true my wish.
Guess I'll grab a six-pack, and just go out and fish.
For when I'm on the water, all worries go on hold.
To heck with all financial woes; to heck with growing old.
All I ever want to do, is drown a piece of bait.
I don't think about my ills, when I hold a pole and wait.
The mid-east can continue wars, the stock markets can fall.
Presidents can romp with aids; I don't care at all.
When a fish is on the line, a cold beer close at hand,
I'm just as rich and happy then as I could ever stand.
Jack
