Fishin’
By Billy Lindow, circa 1974, then age 15 or 16
The fish were there and we sought ‘em
We searched, we drifted, we caught ‘em
From the Forelands to the Anchor Point Line
We fished, for fear of the fine
The spell of the Inlet, the untamed beauty
The fight of the salmon will drive ya fruity
Like the draw of a magnet pulling ya back
Convulsive as a heart attack!
It’s called the lure of fishin’
To do it again I’m always wishin’
Fishermen are loony, it’s a well known fact
Stormy weather, no fish — nothin’ will hold them back
Rip tides, rough rides, gutless boats, tangled floats
Greenhorn deckhands, slimy raincoats
But I’m ready, all winter I been sittin’ in
Now it’s June and I’m itchin’ for fishin’ again
