Oh, Flounder, you rounder, I’d like an eight-pounder,
But a six would be just fine with me.
Still, I’d be in heaven if I hooked a seven,
And a fiver would fill me with glee.
Oh, Flounder, absconder, I’d like a four-pounder--
But a two would be just fine with me–
But thinking it over, I’d be in tall clover,
If I could just hook me a three.
Oh, Flounder, a bounder, I’d like a one-pounder . . .
I just want a keeper, you see . . .
A 14-plus-incher just might be the clincher,
And I could go home merrily.
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