Catfish Hunters

Gussy up Bubba, we’re headin’ out to the Mississippi river where catfish are fat on that
muddy side of the honey hole.

Granny’s baitin’ hooks, Karen’s yellin’ at the gators, and Cousin Cletus is upset that the
beers gone warm.

You know what they say, ‘the tug is the drug.’ And if it’s got whiskers and swims
crooked, then we’re mountin’ it on the wall, ma boy.