The Old, Old Story
 

I have no wish to rail at fate,
    And vow that I'm unfairly treated;
I do not give vent to my hate
    Because at times I am defeated.
Life has its ups and downs, I know,
    But tell me why should people say
Whenever after fish I go:
    "You should have been here yesterday"?

It is my luck always to strike
    A day when there is nothing doing,
When neither perch, nor bass, nor pike
    My baited hooks will come a-wooing.
Must I a day late always be?
    When not a nibble comes my way
Must someone always say to me:
    "We caught a bunch here yesterday"?

I am not prone to discontent,
    Nor over-zealous now to climb;
If victory is not yet meant
    For me I'll calmly bide my time.
But I should like just once to go
    Out fishing on some lake or bay
And not have someone mutter: "Oh,
    You should have been here yesterday."