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