Moody Creek Blues
Fishing is fertile; fishing is easy.
Here we go,
But we don't know
It's Moody Creek Blues.
Throw you line into the hole
And wait until you see you pole go down
Up and down, up and down, up and down.
Give a jerk and set your hook;
You'll get a rainbow or a brook, and pull
Pull 'im in, pull 'im in, pull 'im in.
Fish goes running down the stream;
He snaps you line; he breaks it clean. He's gone.
Fish has turned his tail and gone. He's gone.
What does it matter; we'll let him get fatter.
There's plenty fish in this old creek. I'm easy to please.
We'll move a little down the stream.
I'll hook my trout and then I'll scream with joy
Happy day, happy day, happy day.
Splashed and fell, the bottom's slick.
I tore my boot; I speared a stick. It's cold
Water's cold, water's cold, water's cold.
Getting up I broke a strap.
Now my boots just flip and flap around.
Now my boots just flip and flap around — around.
I will still show you how. We'll put on a dry fly now.
Just cast it high and keep it dry. I'll float it on down.
I cast my fly into the air;
I catch a willow hanging there. And swear.
*xj+, *xj+, *xi+
Tug too hard to break it free;
I leave the blue dun in the tree. It's gone.
Lost my fly, lost my fly, lost my fly, lost my fly.
Moody Creek is mean and wild.
I think I'll give up for a while and go.
Think I'll take my pole and go — go home.
© Allen Hackworth 2000