Anyone know any good fishing poems?

[Hawgeye]

I am looking for a couple good fishing poems. I would leave it open to any kind of responses but since it is for my wife's elementary school class, it should be clean. Does anyone know of any good ones?

Thanks in advance!

[Kevin/CO]

There once was a man from Nantucket,
He fished sitting on a metal bucket.
The man was tall,
his bait was small
He felt a fish strike and he stuck it.

Yeah not great but its original.

[perchjerker]

Just for kicks, i put "fishing poems" in a google search, lots of stuff there, should be something you will find suitable.

[s.f.]

"early to bed
early to rise
fish like 'heck'
to make up lies"

the only one my weather beaten brain can remember!

#49er

[Upnorthwalleye]

There once was a redkneck from Rangoon-----
Was out throwing his favorite spoon----
He let it silver brilliance flutter----
And finally caught his cap from the gutter!


Hahha-------Ray

[SnellTier]

How about a SONG ... like this one ...

"ROW ROW ROW your boat ...". The kids can sing along.

[john mannerino]

Fishy fishy in the brook, please come and bite my hook.
John

[almosthaddabite]

I'm guessing, about 17 years ago "In Fisherman" printed a poem or you might call it a ballad having to do with a fisherman catching a "giant" Musky while fishing in a canoe. Does anyone remember this or know how to get a reprint?

[Barb]

God grant that I may fish
Until my dying day
And when it comes to my last cast
I humbly pray
When in God's landing net
I'm peacefully asleep,
That in His mercy I be judged
As good enough to keep.

[Juls_WI]

One of my favorites..;-)

Hey,
Mike Kozlowski told me to get in touch with you. I don't have your phone number or email addy. Can I have it? You can email me at juls@walleyecentral.com

Thanks!

Juls

[Steve(CO)]

Composed in honor of our annual group trips to northern Ontario.

Ode to Ontario
(With apologies to Lewis Caroll)

The time has come, the Angler said, to speak of many things,
Of fishing boats and repellent and surface feeding rings.
Of northern pike and smallmouth bass and lake trout and walleye,
Of caribou and moose and loons and eagles in the sky.

Beware the northern pike, my son,
The jaws that snatch, the teeth that bite.
Beware the hungry mosquito
and the frumious Molson Light®.

[Hawgeye]

Thanks for all so far. I am getting a good chuckle on some of these. Did the search on google but none were as enjoyable as some of these! I particularily like the originals. Why not, here is my original,


What is the most majestic fish of them all,
the bass, the pike, the crappie or perch?
the size doesn't matter whether large or small,
the walleye of course, the best of the search.

Okay, guess I'll stick to fishing. You don't have to tell me that poetry is not my thing! :)

[Erie Drifter]

It's March and I'm TIRED of winter...
the ice, and the cold winds that blow.
I'm tired of breathing the dried-up house air
and shovelling mountains of snow.
I yearn for the gurgle of water,
the lapping of wavelets on shores...
I long for warm breezes, the woods-smell that teases
the early spring leaves as they grow.
I yearn for the sun-dappled waters...
and to cast out a bait-laden hook...
I don't mind the waiting, or all the hook-baiting
to catch just ONE fish I can cook!
I carry my gear in the trunk of my car,
next to scrapers and shovel and salt.
I'll watch fishing shows on cable for now,
and wait for the winter to halt.
I await the first day of the season...
with an increasing urge and delight.
And on that first day, you can bet that I'll say,
"I'M GOIN' FISHIN' !" and I'll be ALL RIGHT!

Author Unknown.

Bill W. (War-N-Peace-ch 68)

[BGunn]

Here's one I wrote about the guys I ice fish with, we all hang out on the UpNorth ice fishing board, and a few post here also. The guys are from Vermont to Saskatchewan, and we have a few get togethers each year. I just returned from 2 trips, one to LOTW, and the other to Wamplers Lake, Mich. (I live in Bennington, NY) All the people in the poem exist, but their "Board Names" are used.
OL'Whitehair, who was very much liked, and respected in our group, died of a heart attack a while back....

The Challenge
By: Bill Gunn

While some of the boys were dropping some jigs in icy Oneida Lake,
Dark Cloud was scouting out Tony’s fish wagon, with roadkill he planned to stake.
Out on the ice, was the Up North gang, laughing and having a ball,
Catching some perch, telling some jokes, and stretching their abdominal wall.

When out on the ice, which was two feet thick, clear, and hard as granite,
there wandered a man, pulling an ice hut, the strangest one seen on this planet.
No hat on his head, no gloves on his hands, a man that was young long ago,
his jacket was worn, and his boots unlaced, and the wind chill was 15 below.
None of us knew the stranger's face, for it was hidden behind his long collar,
but he stopped close by, and drilled a hole, and fished in the snow and the squalor.

We kept on a fishin’, and having our fun, but something did not seem just right,
For every time one of us caught a fish, the stranger pulled up two, to spite.
Then he’d look to us, with a gleam in his eye, and drop those fish back down the hole,
As if to say “I’ll catch fish all day” as he messed with his jig and his pole.
Then he would laugh, and we looked at him strange, ‘for that laugh was familiar and bright,
It wasn’t to make fun; it was more like a challenge, that should have been our warning light!

Then he walked on over, to our little group, and looked at us all up and down,
He looked at our stuff, our augers and poles, and the fanciest huts in the town.
He looked at the pile of fish that we had, he grinned, and sucked in his gut,
Said, “Show me the best fisherman you have with you here, and I sorely will out fish his butt!”
Well that was enough, ‘ole Tony was lit, nobody could say that to him,
He stepped right up forward, “I’ll kick your rear” and his eyes had got mean and were dim.

Now the old man was sad, said “ please don’t get mad, were doing this all for fun!
I’ll give you the whole lake, you give me a hole, and I’ll only take fish from that one”
Well Tony ain’t stupid, and he knows a sucker, so he went out to drill the mans hole,
He knew the right spot, in two feet of water, he drilled it on top of a knoll!
Well the stranger just grinned, gathered his stuff, sat down and started to fish,
Tony went straight to his best “Honey Hole”, to whoop this old man was his wish.

Now going to work, Tony would jerk, and a fish would pop out of the hole,
Sometimes he could hardly keep up with the perch; there was always a bend in the pole.
He fed them every jig he had with him, the Marmooskas and Raps that he made,
When all of a sudden nothing would work, even the Road Runner with a white blade.
Every time he would hook, his line would snap, and his rod once went down the hole,
Nothing would go right, his line would all tangle, and Tony was loosing control.

And that strange old man just kept on fishing, perch, walleye, northerns, and bass,
As soon as we’d count them, he’d throw them right back, I’ll say this man fished with some class.
He even threw back a fifty inch northern, along with a three-foot sturgeon,
He handled that pole like you’d handle a woman, and precision like a brain surgeon.
It didn’t take long and soon he had caught, all that was, his legal share.
He looked over to Tony untangling his line, but his look was one of despair.

“I have to go back now”, and he stood up, and walked off, but left all his gear.
And the strangest thing was, when he walked on the snow, silence was all you could hear.
He walked a few yards, and started that laughter, the laugh that some seem to know,
And then he just vanished, just faded away, in the wind driven, dusty white snow.
Somehow he snuck out, just to have fun, and showed us, so we’d understand,
‘Ole Whitehair left saying, “Fishing’s for fun, now it’s back to the ‘Ole Promised Land”.

[Dave]

I dont know, but I'v been told, the time you spend jigging, you dont grow old.!!

[Juls_WI]

B,
I really liked that...the message has been heard loud and clear! ;-)

Juls

[FishGuy]

Hawgeye...OK, now you know what I do with my time during these Canadian winter months. Hope you all like it.

Under an Open Sky

My passion, fishing, is so fine
That every waking moment spent
Is on the water, rain or shine
To wait and thrill when rod is bent.

I search for beasts of fin and scale
To apprehend with tempting bait
In river, lake or creek of vale
From morning until evening late.

This pursuit takes me near and wide
For pike and walleye, trout and bass
That cold and quiet in waters hide
Beneath waves over which I pass.

In fishing do I find repose
And all my cares do I release
Of tranquil mind thus, I propose
That all concerns of mine should cease.

And when in wormy soil I lie
In final rest, eternal state
Shed not a tear, I do not die
I succumb gladly to this fate.

I know in Heaven I'll reside
My spirit free to fish content
For fishes there will I abide
To wait and thrill when rod is bent.

D. F. Beaudry