This ad hoc parody by a BC commercial fisherman was provoked by the Canadian Department of Fisheries and Oceans introducing a policy requiring commercial fishing boats to report their catch each evening by VHF radio. Sung to the chorus of "Sailing, Sailing," it was composed, probably in the early 1990s, by Iris Griffith (my mother) fishing aboard salmon seiner Tzoonie River with her husband and grown children.
        In theory, this polling of the fleet by radio should give Fisheries a timely, scientifically accurate estimate of total fish caught for each 24 hour period. In practice, since all the boats in the area were listening, there were strong incentives for fishermen to exercise a little creative license one way or another.
        A skipper could be tempted to "lowball" or underestimate his catch, lest others who are doing less well come looking. Boats that think he is in a hot spot may set in front of him (intercepting fish swimming toward his net) or (in the case of seiners) spend the day taking turns with him in a lineup for a good fishing spot.
        For many, the urge to exaggerate their prowess overcame both strategy and veracity. Sometimes the first few boats would hail, say, four or five hundred fish. Someone would report six hundred. The next boat might hail seven or eight, the next nine fifty, a thousand, twelve hundred.... Someone like my father might break such a cycle by hailing a truthful three hundred eighty, then the next few boats would admit to similar catches, until somebody else suspected someone of exaggerating and the flights of fancy would resume.
        The annoying thing was that the radio hails were as unnecessary as they were inaccurate. There are few places where fresh fish can be delivered for processing. Fish plants and "packer" boats which collect and transport catch while the fishing boats continue their work are required to share boat delivery records with the fisheries department. If catch figures were needed before the end of the opening, fisheries officers would travel from boat to boat in a fast inflatable to ask the fishermen directly and discreetly. They usually get an honest estimate that way, as well as being in the area to observe directly, build understanding and co-operation with fishermen, and walk the streams between fishing openings.
        Nowadays cell phones are widely available, so for the last couple of years or more the department requires boats to call in their catches by phone. It's an inexpensive way for the government to produce lots of nice numbers, while they go on whittling down field staff. (Fisheries policy is made in Ottawa, over a thousand miles away from any of the three oceans that border this country.)

HAILING, HAILING
(Iris E. Griffith)

Hailing, hailing, over the bounding main,
"This is the fisheries patrol; it's six o'clock again.
Vessels, vessels, call us and let us know
How many fish you have on board: come on, now, don't be slow."

"Honest, honest, I've got a hundred thou'.
Certainly you can take my word, would I kid you now?"
Failing hailing, here is a happy thought:
Why don't you read the packer slips to find out what we caught?

MP