The bass grow as long as your arm
down by mr thompson's farm
the flatrock river licks it's muddy ridge
underneath of a covered bridge
emerald shiners mirror the light
a grey heron takes to flight
catching crawdads for a hopeful cast
while the shoals of minnows pass
This is about my time when I lived in Rushville, Indiana. I used to fish under a very old covered bridge. It was the best fishing of my life, and I am pretty sure that I caught some record smallmouth bass. I never weighed them though.