Last Sunday it was my intent
To get my darling wife's consent
To venture out and do a little trouting.
But it was then that she did mention
That it had been her intention
That we go out on a Sunday outing.

I knew that it was coming,
And the thought of it was numbing,
And the chances of escape were pretty slim.
I put my rod back on the shelf
And had but to remind myself
That otherwise would risk both life and limb.

I let her do the driving,
For I know there's no surviving
The instructions that I would have to endure.
But even though she's in control,
She's still not happy in that role,
And I will get some reprimand, I'm sure.

And we had gone not quite a mile
When I broke out into a smile
That brought the wrath of God down onto me.
It seemed that some stray pleasant thought
My addlepated mind had caught
Was cause for this acute disharmony.

And then I all but seal my fate
When I promote a small debate
About the route that we should take this day.
She wants to ride along the shore
To look at houses that we poor
Can only drool and gawk at in dismay.

She says that it's just meant to be
That we must live in poverty,
And then she throws my way a spiteful glance.
I know there is but little use
To offer up some lame excuse
Or come up with some other song and dance.

She said, "When we exchanged those rings,
I really thought I'd have more things.
God knows that I've been patient all these years.
I work my fingers to the bone
And manage our lives all alone."
And then, on cue, she breaks down into tears.

Then in between her heartfelt sobs,
I said, "You know I work two jobs,
And night school's really going fairly well."
Now I don't know how it appears,
But this was falling on deaf ears,
And things were getting worse then, I could tell.

I saw a chance for my escape
By putting in her favorite tape,
In hopes that it would help her to unwind.
And though the tunes of Kenny G
Don't really do that much for me,
They put her in a better state of mind.

I was about down on my knees
To thank those haunting melodies
For weaving all their magic and mystique,
When some augmented minor note
Just seemed to get her nanny goat,
And she proceeded on with her critique.

It's difficult for me to hide
The feelings that I have inside
When I'm not happy being where I am.
When I'm out here, it's quite a drag
When I know they have dropped the flag
To start that NASCAR race at Rockingham.

I thought of turning on the news
Or faking a much-needed snooze
To finish out this dreadful Sunday ride,
But she was having none of that,
So through the final miles I sat
Just hoping that she'd finally get tongue-tied.

Then mercifully that Sunday drive
Was ended with us both alive,
Though we both had a few new battle scars.
She'll drive me crazy, if I let her,
So next week I think we better
Take that Sunday drive in separate cars.