Real Fishin’

                                                         (rewritten*)

It’s well enough to go to Maine

   An’ take your rod an’ line;

The Adirondacks offer up

   Some salmon fishin’ fine.

An’ men will come an’ men will go

   An’ fish an’ fish away;

An’ set upon a hard pine board

     The liveling summer day.

An’ some catch more an’ some catch less,

   An’ some catch less than that;

Aye, some get nary bite at all

   Except beneath the hat.

If their imagination’s strong,

   An’ “bait” is in its prime,

They’ll tell you when the trip is done,

   They’ve had a bully time.

I take my ol’cane pole an’ go

   On “Lizzard Crick” each day,

An’ shove amongst the lily-pads

   Right where the pick’rel lay.

I slap my bait amongst the weeds,

   A perch’s belly fine

An’ pretty soon there comes a swish

   An’ then a tautened line.

I give my ol’ cane pole a swing

   An’ thro’ the air there flies

A yeller, gleamin’ pickerel

   Of most temenjous size.

Now you kin go way down in Maine,

     Where them big salmon lay

An’ row around with patent gear

     Without a bite all day.

Or to the Adirondack lakes

With all their fishin’ fine,

But I will take my ol’ cane pole

     An’ “Lizzard Crick” for mine!

April 22, 1908

 (*originally ‘The Real Thing’, July 19, ’07)