Not a song but a poem. Distinction without a difference. William Butler Yeats.
I WENT out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
Every morning at the lake you can see them arrive,
with their trailers and their boats and their four wheel drives.
Skimming cross the water at the break of dawn,
searchin for that legend, a fish they call Big John.
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Nobody seems to know where John calls home,
he a 20lb bass lake Cachuma's his home.
He's never been caught by anyone who has tried
it's been many long years but that fish still survives. Big John
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Along came Chris he was tough and he was mean,
he had a twenty foot fiberglass fishing machine.
Slid that boat into the water he was soon underway
yelling Big John the end is near your mine today. Big John
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Pulled his boat into a cove, picked up his rod and reel.
With a flick of his wrist that line started to peel.
He threw a nickle bladed spinner bait and brought it back in
then a quick as a lightning bolt cast out again for Big John.
Along came Tim in a twelve foot boat,
an aluminum garbage heap barely afloat.
He had an antique cane pole hanging on the stern
with a wire hook a bobber and a little tiny worm for Big John.
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John
Tim pulled that boat into the little cove.
Twenty feet from Chris, they were fishing toe to toe.
Chris looked down and he started to shake,
so he fired up that motor and left Tim in is wake for Big John.
Chris caught alot of bass, but none of them John.
He had an hour to go then the sun would be gone.
So he fished real hard for that hour non-stop.
Then he sat down his rod and headed for the dock without John.
Big John, Big John, Big Bad John.
When he pulled up to the dock, ole' Tim was sitting there,
in his twelve foot boat on his fishing chair.
Chris looked down and started to gasp.
On the bottom of Tims' boat, lay a twenty pound bass.....Big John.
Excellent suggestions, I have some homework to do on I-tunes. Thanks for the poetry/lyrics. The Yeats reminds me of Gerard Hopkins poems we had to rote-learn in high school: "Pied Beauty" and "the Windhover." The only lines I remember? Something about rose-moles on trout that swim. And something was dappled.
Just like Yeats, line 21 in otter's post. Yeats probably borrowed some of Hopkin's verbal thunder, excepting Yeats was thinking about how he didn't get laid and Hopkins was thinking about Jesus...
I have no doubt Yeats would also be into the master of sampling, King Tubby, not to mention Van Morrison, The Cult and Janis Joplin.
"Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose..."
"Fish, especially trout and salmon, have a special association with holy wells. These fish living in holy wells were thought to possess both eternal life and wisdom; they were the holders of the knowledge of the gods and the Otherworld. We should remember that the fish is and was a universal symbol of the Great Goddess and was taken as a symbol of Jesus and Christianity by the early church authorities to remove a totally Pagan symbol of faith. According to Celtic tradition, fish were thought to be the spirit of a transformed human being that had been trapped in a well and turned into the magical salmon or trout—transformed to become the guardian spirit of that well throughout time. "
Remember that when you're hooked up with a native run fish.
And read, I think its called. "The Hawk's Well", again by Yeats, on matters of immortality and mortality.
Excellent suggestions, I have some homework to do on I-tunes. Thanks for the poetry/lyrics. The Yeats reminds me of Gerard Hopkins poems we had to rote-learn in high school: "Pied Beauty" and "the Windhover." The only lines I remember? Something about rose-moles on trout that swim. And something was dappled.
Just like Yeats, line 21 in otter's post. Yeats probably borrowed some of Hopkin's verbal thunder, excepting Yeats was thinking about how he didn't get laid and Hopkins was thinking about Jesus...
I have no doubt Yeats would also be into the master of sampling, King Tubby, not to mention Van Morrison, The Cult and Janis Joplin.
"Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose..."
Boot
“Glory be to God for dappled things for skies of couple-color as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim”
I hate to ruin one of the tracks in your playlist, but Silverfish aren't fish or even fish food. They're terrestrial insects that sometimes get into peoples' homes and cause infestations when they feed on dry food products.
Primus, dude! Les Claypool is a flyfisherman and writes some awesome fishing songs:
Ol' Diamondback Sturgeon (Fisherman's Chronicles part 3)
Fish On (Fisherman's Chronicles part 2)
The Family and the Fishing Net
John The Fisherman
Wynonna's Big Brown Beaver should be included for other reasons.......
I'm also partial to Spinal Tap's "Break Like The Wind", an ode to my buddy Tim's fishing trip habit................
Primus, dude! Les Claypool is a flyfisherman and writes some awesome fishing songs:
Ol' Diamondback Sturgeon (Fisherman's Chronicles part 3)
Fish On (Fisherman's Chronicles part 2)
The Family and the Fishing Net
John The Fisherman
listening to Primus on a soggy, gray northwest day would put anyone in the mood to fish.......How about an award for Mingo for the "Avatar of the Year Award"???
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Hill's Discount Flies
Originally Posted by wadin' boot
