Sam, Dad, and Lucy

UP AND AT ’EM

Dramatic Poem for Three

 

 

Sam	Dad	Lucy
Dad, wake up! It’s six-o-eight.
	It’s dark outside; the fish will wait.
I’ll make toast, I’ll pack the truck,
Load our worms—they’ll bring us luck.
	Okay, I’m up. I’ll help you load
	So we can get out on the road.
		A fishing trip?
		Can I go too?
	I guess.
	There’s room for both of you.
But Lucy took my fishing gear.
Maybe she should stay right here.
Plus she likes to twirl and play.
She’ll scare all the fish away!
	Sam’s right, we can’t play games or jump . . .
	The boat’s no place to stomp or thump.
		I won’t dance, I won’t squirm.
		I’ll be as quiet as a worm.
	Okay, then, now it’s just us three.
But, Dad, it was just you and me.
	I’m sorry, Sam, us three today.
	Let’s load and we’ll be on our way.
		Yippee! Hold on. I’ll be right back.
		I have some fishing stuff to pack.