Lower Glenelg N.P. – 29 November 2001
At 5pm the word goes round,
Bakker, gathering his gear, is the sound,
The fish are rubbing their fins together,
Another feeding frenzy for the school to weather.
Bakker's food is a dish of prawns,
His meager tackle box, a leatherman, a rod - his
adorns,
Let's face it, the man is a novice, and the fish
know it,
A school soon gathers hungrily, in a laughing fit.
The first prawn is on the hook, anticipation of a
catch is Bakker's mood,
For the fish, it is "who this time is getting
the food?",
You see, Bakker's nibbles, come heavy or light,
Matter no one whit to this fishing blight.
A catch for Bakker is rare, the fish either
suicidal, juvenile or old,
But he presses on undeterred, Bakker is a
fisherman bold,
Alas, more ofter than not, the prawn that is cast,
Is seen by the school as nothing but a repast.