Bashan Lake (A Protest)

O Bashan Lake, You forest pride, you gem on nature’s breast

You shining calm of summer joy to all who long for rest;

You shining sheen of happiness, you cup of liquid blue,

I have a charge most serious against the heart of you.

All day I sat upon your breast and fished and fished away

Without a bite to cheer my soul from all your finny prey,

While Mummers (and some others) they with smiles serene and wise,

Caught bass and perch and pickerel before my very eyes!

O Bashan Lake! There may be fish

Beneath your silvery sheen;

There may be bass in hiding there,

From “two” to “ten” I mean.

There may be millions waiting there

With hunger good to see;

But Bashan Lake, ‘twas a mistake,

You have no bass for me.

O Bashan Lake! Your charms I’ve praised in speech and song and story;

Your faultless crest I’ve e’er upheld as nature’s crowning glory.

I rose at five A.M. and walked four miles to reach your side,

Then hoofed it back with heavy heart at silent eventide.

No fish to stink my mother’s pan, no glorious fights that day,

No wondrous takes to tell the press a hundred miles away.

No rise, no pull, no old-time “luck”, not e’en a bull-faced pout;

O Bashan Lake! You’re false to me, I hereby cut you out.

O Bashan Lake! Stream of my youth,

How could you use me so?

O could it be the “bait” I used

Was just a bit too slow?

There may be bass within your fold

To fill some hearts with glee,

But O alas! You have no bass

With which to tickle me.

                                      c. Sept. 5, 1899