My dog wags it tail when I tell this tale.
No man can know more about fish than you.
My dear, you love fishing more than hunting deer.
You’re the master of your trade.
So you enter a contest, but not to sew.
It’s for fishing, of course, and begins at four.
You don’t know what to do because it’s only two.
It’s not enough time to stay in an inn.
Right then you get the idea to write.
You list in red ink every book you’ve ever read.
Soon the time has passed. It’s half past three.
You reached the blue sea just before the horn blew.
With spirits high, you say, “Hi.”
You agree to play fair. Let’s see how you fare.
If you break the rules, you’ll find that you’re fined.
They count to ten and bang on the tin.
It’s time to see if you can find a big fish in the sea.
You set sail with a boat that you bought at a sale.
Where you go you wear your very best gear.
You use an ant for bait that you got from your aunt.
Your main advantage is your lucky horse’s mane,
Hare’s foot, and magic mermaid hair.
We shall pray for your prey.
The poor fish would rather be stung by a bee.
You caught your fish while napping in a cot.
Even though I’m here, I don’t believe what I hear.
However, I did see it with my eye.
Then you pick it up with your feet. What a feat!
Go this way to the scale. It’s time to weigh the fish.
They’re measuring their prizes over there.
Now we wait to discover the weight.
When will we find out if you win?
Your son is watching anxiously in the sun.
His stomach is in a knot, but yours is not.
You’re the one who has won the prize.
They write your name with a pen on a pin.
They mail it to you by a postman who is male.
You’re our hero of the hour.
Let’s cook the poor fish and pour water on your pores.
Fry the fish in flour. Decorate it with a flower.
It’s time to spice it up by adding some thyme.
When you add a beet, the flavor can’t be beat.
Everyone knows the smell delights your nose.
We wipe our bare feet on your bear rug.
We meet at the table to eat the meat.
The maid has the table nicely made.
Just after we ate the clock struck eight.
Thanks for stopping by. It’s time to say, “Bye.”
Copyright (c) 2013 Chris McMullen
Should any educator wish to use the above edition of this poem, “Home of Phone Homophones,” for non-commercial, instructional purposes, it may be used freely for this purpose.
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