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.