You get a line and I'll get a pole, honey
You get a line and I'll get a pole, babe
You get a line and I'll get a pole (and a bucket full of worms that I found on the Newmentia parking lot this morning after a rain)
And we'll go down to the fishin' hole
Honey, baby mine.
Every time it rains, the blacktop parking lot of Newmentia is covered with worms. Not big fat earthworms as thick as Farmer H's pinky finger. Not writhing red wigglers like my dad used to pick up after turning over a piece of tin in the back yard. Kind of in-between. Three to four inches long, about the thickness of three strands of spaghetti, with pinkish ends. All over the place. I could pick them up and stash them in a plastic garbage can with dirt and crushed leaves and newspaper and garbage, and start my own worm farm.
That way, I could sell live bait off the counter of my proposed handbasket factory.