maeve-

Thanks for the Stringbean clip!

That reminds me of an old tale I got from my brother-in-law who lives up in the Lincolnville Hills:

The Ice Fishing Song-2

(Parody by Garrison Keillor ©1999
Adapted by Charlie Ipcar 1/20/03
Tune: The Greenland Whale Fisheries)

When I was young I'd tell tall tales,
And lying was my sport,
But I've told no lie since late last week,
When the gang and I went "nort", me boys,
The gang and I went "nort."

The gang was Fitzie, Mike and me,
We met the break of day;
We packed the booze and the cooler in the back,
In our kingcab tore away, me boys,
In our kingcab tore away.

We reached the lake after dark,
And drove out on the ice;
We opened up the shack and we fired up the stove,
And passed that bottle twice, me boys,
Passed that bottle twice.

The fishing hole was thick with ice,
And it was late at night;
So Fitzie reached into his tackle box,
To get his dynamite, me boys,
To get his dynamite.

He lit the fuse, threw it down the hole,
And then he stamped and cursed;
"Cripes, I've made a foolish mistake,
That was our old bratwurst, me boys,
That was our old bratwurst."

Then from the hole where the bratwurst sank,
A giant fish leaped out,
A thirty-pound trout the size of a dog,
With the bratwurst in his mouth, me boys,
The bratwurst in his mouth.

So we passed the bottle once again,
To celebrate the catch;
Then Fitzie reached down for a cigar,
And I saw him light the match, me boys,
I saw him light the match.

That cigar blew Fitzie over Isle au Haut,
And Mike to the Bay of Booth;
But since my life was spared that day,
I'm here to tell the truth, me boys,
Yes, I'm here to tell the truth.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble