Tuff Knuckles Fishing

Before the sun is thinking ’bout coming up,

He’s already rolling with coffee in his cup.

Long night, white lines, another hard-earned check,

But there’s a bass boat running circles in his head.

Used to wear a badge, learned to stand his ground,

Now he works those long miles while the whole world settles down.

He’ll give an honest day everything he’s got,

But ask him where he’d rather be—

You already know the spot.

Got the Lord riding with him,

Every mile down that line.

Got Jill waiting back home,

Got his family on his mind.

And somewhere past those headlights,

There’s a shoreline calling his name...

TUFF KNUCKLES FISHING — RIPPIN’ LIPS!

Set the hook and hang on to it.

Big bass blowing up, drag screaming off the reel,

That’s about as close to heaven as a working man can feel.

He loves the Lord,

Holds that rod like a sword,

And gives Him thanks every chance he gets.

God comes first,

Family comes next,

Work all week—then hit that water hard.

Tuff Knuckles Fishing.

Rippin’ lips.

He can drive six hundred fifty miles with fishing on his brain,

Seeing ponds and little rivers rolling past that truck all day.

Wondering what they’re hitting, wondering where they hide,

Thinking ’bout a topwater blowing up beside the boat tonight.

His boys and girls know that feeling when the line starts running fast,

Casting right there with their dad, making memories that last.

And now the grandkids get to learn what he already knows:

Some of the best things God gives us

Can’t be bought or sold.

It’s the Lord above who leads him,

Jill standing by his side,

Kids and grandkids close,

And a sunrise coming alive.

When this world gets heavy,

He knows exactly where to go...

TUFF KNUCKLES FISHING — RIPPIN’ LIPS!

Set the hook and hang on to it.

Big bass blowing up, drag screaming off the reel,

That’s about as close to heaven as a working man can feel.

He loves the Lord,

Holds that rod like a sword,

And gives Him thanks every chance he gets.

God comes first,

Family comes next,

Work all week—then hit that water hard.

Tuff Knuckles Fishing.

Rippin’ lips.

He knows what pressure feels like,

He’s carried more than most.

A badge, a job, a family—

And things a man don’t always post.

But tough ain’t making noise

So everybody knows your name.

Sometimes tough is showing up

And doing it again.

Keeping God above it all,

Keeping promises you made,

Putting food upon the table,

Taking time to cast a line

With the family that you raised.

And if somebody asks him

Why he keeps grinding like he does...

He’ll point to God first,

Then point to his family.

First light.

Fog lifting.

One cast.

Line twitching.

Rod bends.

Drag slips.

Hold on—

HE’S RIPPIN’ LIPS!

TUFF KNUCKLES FISHING — RIPPIN’ LIPS!

Set that hook and don’t you quit.

From six hundred fifty highway miles

To that first-light water hit.

He loves the Lord,

Holds that rod like a sword,

And thanks Him for the life that he’s been given.

God above all,

Jill by his side,

His family’s his pride,

And fishing keeps that fire alive.

Hard-working hands.

A faithful man’s heart.

One more cast before it gets dark.

God.

Family.

Fishing.

That’s about as real as it gets.

TUFF KNUCKLES FISHING.

RIPPIN’ LIPS.