Hey Freddy, want to go fishing tonight? Sure Dad, what time? I've got plenty of bait, I'll pick you up at nine Surf fishing out on the beach Trying for fish, sometimes just out of our reach I watch as you cast your baited line out It's clear to me how, you outcast me now Passing ships, shooting stars in the night Fishing with you was a true delight My face is stained from crying my tears The best of my life, was your eighteen years Fish on was the cry when the rod bent Always a helping hand, the other lent I still set up your empty chair Because I know you will always be there © Fred C. Fischer 2024