|Three fishers went strolling away to the creek,
Away to the creek as the sun went down.
'Twas a summer night at the end of the week
And their wives stood watching them out of town.
For men will fish while the women wait,
And there's no telling what they will take for bait
When they stroll away in the gloaming.
The night went by and they did not come;
Three anxious women set out on their tracks,
And they found their husbands so cold and dumb,
So still and pale on the flat of their backs.
For men will fish till they get full of booze,
Then all of their senses they quickly lose
And their wits go far a-roaming.
Three fishers went sneaking away to their homes,
Away to their homes in the early dawn,
With a throbbing pain in each of their domes
And three mad women to urge them on.
And when their friends asked what they caught,
They turned away and they answered naught,
For they thought of the beer and its foaming.
Verdigris Valley Verse
(Coffeyville, Kansas: The Journal Press. 1917)