With minor modifications, here is an entry I wrote for Capital City Bass Club about 12 years ago. I thought I would re-post this in the spirit of the up-coming fishing season:
'Twas the night before a bass tournament,
When all through the house,
Not an angler was sleeping, not even his spouse.
The rods were all placed in the Skeeter with care,
In hopes that the fishing would be better than fair.
While tossing and turning all night in my bed,
Visions of smallies danced in my head.
And Mamma in her nightie and I in my cap,
Had my mind just on fishing which cost me a slap.
As the counting of bass didn't help or matter,
I crept out of bed without making a clatter.
Luckily I was up as I had a "brain flash,"
And searched my wife's purse for "big fish" cash.
With money in hand to the kitchen I go,
For a plate of lill' smokies and a mug of hot joe,
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But my bass partner Lonnie, holding his gear.
It was one a.m., was he out of his mind?
Then I remembered we were two of a kind.
He said he came early to get a jump on the game,
And cursed the competition as he called them by name:
There's Sessler, Reimers, Hobbs the McMurrays,
Delay and Dan Johnson, they give me such worries.
They know all the spots, that catch fish with such ease,
I want to bring each one of them down to their knees.
As ducks walk on water attempting to fly,
When bass boats race toward them, they mount to the sky.
So was my partner, stressed-out and uptight,
As he worked on his gear, to get it just right.
And then in a twinkling it was time to head out.
We were ready for battle, more prepared than a scout.
As I walked toward Ol' Skeeter, I heard a strange sound,
And turned as my partner fell hard to the ground.
Overloaded with gear from his head to his foot,
His fancy new bass shirt now muddied with soot.
Three bags of snubs were scattered around,
Twelve rods lay near him, there on the ground.
We had a good laugh, then hooked up the boat.
Oh, how she sparkled with her shiny gel-coat.
The metal-flake shimmered in the pale moon light,
With two hundred horses all rearing for flight.
Down the road we did go, trailer lights all ablaze.
I had to admire ol' skeet with each gaze.
My nerves were high, butterflies filled my belly.
As I bit on my nails I could taste smelly jelly.
As we arrived at the ramp, how the water was steam'n,
The wind was dead calm, the moon still a gleam'n.
The boat slipped in smoothly as I gave a slight tug.
My only concern was: Did I put in the plug?
With banners in place, boats rearing to fly,
Safe light was upon us, and lit up the sky.
Excitement ran through me from my head to my toes.
When my number was called, Ol' Skeet, how she rose,
As I gave her full throttle and held on for dear life,
She cut through the water like the edge of a knife.
When we hit warp speed, I screamed out my plea,
Good luck to all, just more luck for me!!!!!