Whizz-Fish

On the swaying branch of a rubber tree, a thousand miles away,
On the banks of the Hula River, in far off Uruguay,
There sits a nervous monkey, his eyes with fear agleam;
His tail is dangling gently within that limpid stream.

Just every nineteen minutes it 'whistles through the air
With a South American whizz-fish a-dangling helpless there,
But the teeth of the hungry whizz-fish are hard on his tender tail,
And if you listen carefully, you can hear that monkey wail:

Oh, shades of Izaak Walton,
Was that another bite?
If I didn't feel so hungry,
I'd quit this job tonight.
But I love the toasted whizz-fish,
Though his bite drives me insane,
But I do so 'wish to catch that fish
That I manage to bear the pain.

One day a great big Juba fish
With jaws 'bout six by nine
Came swimming down the river,
And seized that monkey's line;
Continued on his journey
Quite unconcernedly,
While the monkey screamed and chattered,
And clang to the rubber tree.
The tree stretched like a garter,
A hundred miles or so;
When the fish let go, the monkey flew
Like an arrow from a bow;
They say he's still a-flying,
And if you'd care to try,
You can hear him sadly murmur,
As he 'whistles through the sky.

from Songfest, 1948 (not in later editions)

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