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just wondering

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if a fisherman tells you that all fisherman are liars.....would you believe him?????.... smile.gif

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I would tell you "yes", but then I'd be lying... wink.gif

Warwick Lynch

The fishermen's story.

Down through the years there's been laughter & tears
at the stories that fishermen tell,
Of the wars that they've fought & the fish that they've caught
In conditions that bordered on hell.

They use terms for their gear that is totally unclear
To the average man in the street.
Gone are those days, those barefoot days
When bamboo & string were surfeit.

Though weigh-ins are quite formal & behavior quite normal
While the catch is put to the tape,
But after a few beers he will bore you to tears
About the size of the ones that escaped.

There is Viking folklore of the mermaids of Azores
& Atlantis the under-sea state.
There is Ahab & Dick, & Jaws, the flick,
& Of course Jonah who finished as bait.

So as legends of old have historically unfolded
Today we still hear feats of fishing,
You're probably aware that a great deal of care
Has been taken to preserve the tradition.

Now there's the fresh water Walla who stands up to his collar
In those freezing wilderness streams,
Casting maggots & flies from sunset to sunrise
Leaving most of them tangled in trees.

There's the variety of cattle who prefer to do battle
On the beach, with antenna-like poles.
When they talk of the fighting they done with a whiting
Dunkirk seems like an afternoon stroll.

The rock-hopper, it's noted, is waterproof coated
& They'll tell you the tide is quite sneaky.
But the logic they use for the places they choose
Seems the waves aren't the only things freaky.

Now the boat-loving troupe comes in three different groups
Unique in their own special way,
They dismiss out of hand that it's safer on land
Or their boats aren't as safe as the day.

The displacement mob all have composite jobs
Made of timber & caulking & rust.
With double lung diesels with cancerous wheezes,
Will tell you that flares are a must.

Their smells a selection of years of neglection
Of bilge pumps that are throttled with scales,
Of decaying brown rags & used plastic bags
& Berley nets choked with entrails.

The out-board fraternity go from here to eternity
In barely the flash of an eye.
All through the day in the shadows of spray
Across the horizon the fly.

They sit & they stand with equipment so grand
& Their rods all clamped in a row.
They'll stop & they'll cast then off they will blast
To another great spot that they know.

Their mark of success say all of the rest
Should be treated with a good deal of caution.
They sarcastically state that in pursuit of the bait
The fish simply die of exhaustion.

Now wide on the coast & playing mine host
We find the elite of the group.
Okanuis abound as he passes around
The champagne that they drink on the [PoorWordUsage].

With hot & cold water & somebody's daughter
In their turbo charged Randalls & Cats
With computerize reels & Pierre Cardin creels
It's important to know where it's at
As the outrigger bows to the pelagic foes
When the hook & the trace strike home.
The battle begins as the anglers strapped in
To his hydrodynamical throne
For an hour of two the struggle ensues
& finally the gaff puts paid
& Back on the wharf the cameras go off
The quarry is proudly displayed.

After the fuss the fish is untrussed
& They toast as the sun slowly sets
"Here's to the fishes & those long-lining drifters,
That's one the bastards won't get".

Now this whole thing began in some foreign land
This pretty smart bloke, so it's wrote,
Told Pete on the side, "cast your gear to the tide"
& The catch nearly capsized the boat.

Now you may think this untrue but I'm telling you
That no one has equaled that feat:
& Down through the years there has been laughter & tears
Cause that's been the story to beat.

Though it's been said before in fishing folklore
It's a fishermen's greatest desire,
But I think it uncouth to say they only tell truth
When they call one another a liar.

[This message has been edited by MT Net (edited 04-01-2003).]

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