My Daddy Rainbow

My Daddy Rainbow Sometime in the summer, if your legs are good and strong, Hook right on to a vacation, go off and leave the throng. Haul out your rod and tackle, rub them quickly into shape, Pack your last year's duds, and for a trout stream make. Go way up in the mountains, where the peaks are peaking snow And the stream keeps getting smaller, and the boulders bolder grow. There may be no great whoppers, like some fellows brag about, But there's lots of sport in catching little gamey, speckled trout. Took a trip last summer like I'm telling you about Filled my soul with satisfaction, and my creel with speckled trout. And right well do I remember the last hour of my stay I hooked the Daddy Rainbow, but he flopped and got away. He sure set me to thinking of some lives most nigh done, And I wondered long and plenty, if they'd had their share of fun, Or if they'd put off till Winter, the joys of Life's young May Then like my Daddy Rainbow, they'd flopped and got away? There's nothing like a fishing trip, with rod and reel and things To make one thank the Lord above, for health and what it brings. I'm not a-preaching righteousness, for I couldn't if I'd try, But it hurts to see a fellow man, let pleasures all slip by. Of course, we've got to work some, while in this vale of sin, And live plumb square and honest, so's not to hurt our kin, But there's lots of wholesome pleasure, writ out in Nature's book, And the one best way to read it, is with a rod and hook. San Diego, Calif. D. C. Retsloff