The Ole Fishin' Hole

At the foot of the mountain there is a special place,
Surrounded by the pines and set back out the way,
This ole fishin' hole is how I like to spend my days,

A crisp spring breeze that twirls up in the air,
Tickling the treetops to make its way down where,
My toes are in the water and I'm without a care,

Nature's gentle kisses barely rustle leaves,
Sunlight reaches down peeking through the trees,
Bobber on the line just drifting with the breeze,

The ripple of the water has a soothing sound,
Crickets serenade me and the sun going down,
On a lazy afternoon this is where I'm found,