FISHING WITH DAD

You may talk about your pleasures
Of the Euchre club or ball,
Of the click of ruddy glasses,
Or the brilliant billiard hall,
Of the race course with its flurry
Or the opera's thrillin' sight,
That perhaps will speed the hours
Of a long or dreary night,
But to me the sweetest pleasure
That my soul has ever had,
Was when I was a fishin',
Was a fishin' with my Dad.

When the snow has left the hillside,
An' the sun's warm rays at last
Call the flowers from their slumber,
Sayin' that the winter's past,
When the drowsy life is humming,
An' the Whip-poor-will is heard,
An' the woodland seems enchanted,
By the song of many a bird,
Then dad sets my heart to thumpin',
As he says to me, "My Lad,
Don't you want to go a fishin',
Go a fishin' with your dad?"

Soon we're off to where the river
Like a mad or frightened steed,
Dashes o'er the rocks or Mill-dam.
(It is here the fishes feed.)
An' our expectations heighten,
As we cast our choicest flies
In the limpid gurgling waters
That conceal the wary prize,
An' we knew we'd surely catch some,
For good luck we always had
When we used to go a fishin',
Go a fishin' me and dad.

Daddy seemed to know the places
Where the big ones always stayed,
Back behind the rushin' waters
Of the Mill-dam, in the shade.
So with temptin' bait he'd manage
By the skill that he had gained,
To secure the largest fishes
That the fishin' place contained.
So when the summer time was comin',
I was always gay and glad,
For I'd get to go a fishin',
Go a fishin' with my dad.

What cared we for all the trials
That we'd meet ere we came back,
For the scorching of the sunbeams
Or mosquito's bold attack?
Could they check our jealous ardor,
Or dislodge us from our place?
For the pleasures of the fishin'
We could all such troubles face.
And tho many pests surround us,
Still what glorious fun we had,
When we used to go a fishin',
Go a fishin' me and dad.

Poor old daddy, may God bless him,
's gettin' rather aged now,
Snows of almost sixty winters
Rest upon his dear old brow,
And the sounding of his footsteps
Once so fearless, strong and bold,
Seems now to be gettin' feeble
Since my daddy's growin' old.
An' methinks the time's not distant,
(An' it makes my heart feel sad),
When no more I'll go a fishin',
Go a fishin' with my dad.

For old Time that never ceases
In his onward march of years,
Rests alike on me an' daddy,
An' it melts my eyes to tears
When I think the time is nearin',
For the years fly swiftly by,
When the boatman 'cross the river
Shall take daddy home on high.
But while God shall in his mercy
Spare the daddy an' the lad,
I shall live to go a fishin',
Go a fishin' with my dad.