Maggie Mobley's Poems

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My grandpa went fishing,

I thought I’d tag alone,

I thought it was exciting,

Till I saw how it was done.

We got our gear together

And headed to the pond

I shouted to my grandpa,

“I’ll catch the biggest one!”

But then I saw him take a worm,

A squiggly-wiggly thing,

He put it on a crooked hook

At the end of a very long string.

I decided not to try it,

I didn’t want to learn,

I did not like the bait he used:

That squiggly-wiggly worm.

He said, “c’mon it’s easy,

Can’t do you any harm.”

I felt a little queasy

Just looking at that worm.

I never again went fishing,

Some lesson did I learn,

I’d never be a fisherman,

cause I hate that wiggly worm.

I placed my music instruments

all neatly in my room,

when all was quiet, I fell asleep,

then thought I heard a tune.

I thought I heard my guitar,

my trumpet made a sound,

they woke me up and scared me,

so, I took a look around.

I peeped from beneath the covers,

to see what I could see,

my violin was playing 

a lovely melody.

I peered out at my saxophone,

it played a sound so sweet,

on a shelf there sat my drum,

just playing a steady beat.

I looked at my piano,

its keys were moving fast,

then all was quiet,

they settled down,

I fell asleep at last.

On a cold, dark and dreary night,

the old woman sat alone,

a tattered quilt and bowl of soup

kept her nice and warm.

Her cat lay by the fireplace,

the dog lay by the door,

as the old woman nodded,

her little cat purred,

and her lazy ol’ dog did snore.

An old grey mouse did scamper by,

when he thought no one could see,

no one’s awake to chase him off,

so, he roamed about quite merrily.

Soon the fire had gone out,

a chill now filled the room,

the old woman shuffled off to bed,

for it’d be morning soon.

About the midnight hour,

the mouse let out a squeak,

the cat began to chase him,

and the old dog jumped to his feet.

The old woman never heard a thing,

for she was fast asleep.

I was sitting by the river,

Just gazing at a duck,

A little boy was fishing,

Not having any luck.

He threw his hook

And reeled it in,

And hoped to catch a fish,

To carry to his mother,

It was her favorite dish.

Soon I saw the little boy grin

His feet could not keep still,

The grin he had soon faded,

When he saw he’d caught an eel.

Then he heard his mother call,

“Johnny come home to dinner!”

The boy was sad; he’d had no luck,

The fish, it was the winner!

I went down to my favorite stream

to sail my little boat,

I dreamed I was Its captain

as I sat and watched it float.

It sailed so straight and with such ease,

I dreamed I was inside,

but then I saw a bullfrog

jump in to take a ride.

It sailed a little further,

the bullfrog was its load,

he yelled out to his neighbor,

“Come on, Jump on board.”

His neighbor was a tiny toad

whose hopes were very dim.

he knew that if he missed that boat,

he couldn’t float nor swim.

He knew it was impossible,

so he refused to try,

just waved and watched the bullfrog

as he went sailing by.