Perchin’ On Ol’ “Lizzard”

Some folks thinks it’s fun tur be

On the rollin’, pitchin’ sea,

With a cod-line in their hand

Ten or twenty mile frum land.

Or mayhaps out on a tug,

With a hidden flask or jug,

Ketchin’ nothin’ but a cold,

Or a wettin’, I am told.

Some folks think it’s fun tur go

Where the salmon waters flow,

Or the muskellunge is found

Weighin’ more’n a hundred pound.

That may be, but jest the same

I don’t want thet kind o’ game;

I ain’t after whales, yew see,

Somethin’ smaller’ll do fur me.

“Lizzard Crick” hits me O.K.,

Where the yaller perches lay;

Fat an’ yaller ‘neath the boat,

Watchin’ me throw line an’ float.

No unsartinty yew see,

“Lizzard Crick’s” the place fur me;

Jest fills me with happerness,

‘Cuz I know I’ll ketch a mess.

July 28, ‘05