Here's a nifty poem by Bert Pruitt published in a 1947 edition of Hunting & Fishing magazine.
Year After Year
by Bert Pruitt
I sometimes wish that I could fish
Like other anglers do
Oh, how I'd like to hook a pike
Or land a bass or two!
We've heard men say that every day
They cast into a pool
Fish take the bait as though Dame Fate
Had spawned another school.
We've heard them tell how all goes well
Each time they take a trip.
How fish bite hard and disregard
The damage to the lip.
From this, it seems that all the streams,
And every lake and creek,
Abound and team with fish that dream
Of striking week by week.
To hear such tales you vision whales
As big as Mobie Dick.
You think it's true and vision you
Are ready for your pick.
You toss 'em bugs and fancy plugs,
And worms and frogs and flies;
Your arms get sore, you toss 'em more,
But still they fail to rise.
So once again the point is plain
As antlers on a buck;
"The other guy," you sadly sigh,
"Has all the breaks and luck!"
-- Dr. Todd