Dave Lilly by Joyce Kilmer

There's a brook on the side of Greylock that used to be full of trout, / But there's nothing there now but minnows; they say it is all fished out. / I fished there many a Summer day some twenty years ago, / And I never quit without getting a mess of a dozen, or so.

There was a man, Dave Lilly, who lived on the North Adams road, / And he spent all his time fishing, while his neighbors reaped and sowed. / He was the luckiest fisherman in the Berkshire hills, I think. / And when he didn't go fishing he'd sit in the tavern and drink.