I like it, to stir the pot. I have always noticed in the stir, Impurities rise to top and the good stuff is always below.
Never seem much stocking over native streams, then again, as a simple man, never looked that close. Or really cared. Always thought Pa. had a good stir, was in touch, did the deed and always looked to the neat year!
Not for you, i see misfortune, discontent, opposed views, misconduct. justification of a few and a red, white and blue sail on your boat!
My boat is land, the first and last solid ground. A man in a boat and a man on land, who will drown first
Just do not get it, do you. Lay off a little. Brook Trout, yes, i did that, then you guys arrived! Hammer and hammer and torment!
Wet hands , be careful, be cool, be the worst you can be, then take a feather and be an Indian. Not me, Pumpkin Head but you, traveled the trails, left a can, a mark, a stench, a hook a track!
I follow you, like a silent Indian, you never saw me there. I do not leave sign! My path is different, Oh yeah, i see your path, path to no where!
You try to tell me what the deal is, you try to tell my, all gone friends, the deal. Really!
We managed more in a short time of 50 years, than you can manage in lifetimes! Babbs Creek, Wilson Creek a example, I see what you do, and wonder, what for!
Too bad for you, you 20, when it comes down to it, you are 1 strong and meet me at 6:30 at the crossroads in Morris for a recogning, I and we left it for you and you took it all away!
Givers and takers, we gave and you take! I see you, out of the corner of a blind eye, dressed to kill, big rod, fancy pouch, sunglasses, big talk, what a lonesome walk it must be, without a friend, in Pa.
Maxima12
