Written for John R. Chamberlain
May 4, 1991
Tales have been told by those
Stories of fishermen, fishermen of lore,
Great white hunters, loose in the trees,
Tramping the boonies, their butts to freeze.
Grand tall-tales of one that got
Boats brimming with fish, I've heard them say,
When asked about size, tell us how long,
These giants of fantasy, break into song.
Regaling our ears with great big
Stretching the truth, just look in their eyes,
The timberland of Canada, up where it's cold,
No one dare venture, save for the bold.
But this is the legend of ol'
Repeated by storytellers near and far,
Said he's from the country, oh 'tis the pity,
Later learned he was born smack dab in the city.
He was scrawny and bald, and
But mother and dad were beaming and proud,
Born by the tracks, the dreaded horseshoe curve,
Altoona was rough, growing up took some nerve.
With brother Skip, they terrorized
Homemade Go-carts, they chased people 'round,
Say Bettie and Marnee, both sisters of John,
He threw dishes out the window, onto the lawn.
He can pack in the chow, gadzooks
Marnee's chocolates he devoured, and 'dats 'da truth,
She noticed he'd dented them and then she wrote,
A warning to John, she wrote him a note.
Reading later he saw, "Stop
She thought he did, heaved a sigh of relief,
Oh, clever was he, took them off the bottom,
Marnee was unaware, that he'd already got'em.
More mischief this lad, had up his
Sheldon's cake, fed to the dog, it's hard to believe,
Off to Canton, Ohio, they moved there next,
The stories went on, new people were vex'd.
Mom met Al Martig, and soon they
The Silver Fox era was born, that's what they said,
In restaurants they ate until fully replete,
The time of his life, livin' on that easy street.
Time now passed, can't tell all
Household Finance, thank God, not in sales,
Sybil now crossed and strayed into his life,
Interesting partners, but not to wife.
It was widely told she was old as
Pinch scotch she drank, she pour'd it in.
But John was happy and full of joy,
He'd passed the test, no longer a boy!
Somewhere in here his life was
Jeanette was born you all know the rest,
An only child was she, but spoiled not rotten,
The joy she brought will never be forgotten.
Later in life, down south in
Chanced to meet a sweet lovely pixie,
Met his bride, the lovely Caroline,
A crusty old coot, but she was quite fine.
But this started out as
Side-tracked by stories, it never fails,
He now has a ticket to travel up north,
Long gone is the school bus, no more to come forth.
With buddies Don & Bryce and
Tramping off to Canada to drink a few,
To laugh and fish and lie about yore,
Down with the victuals and back to the store.
Well, like all good things this
has to end,
Life has taught me that, you can depend,
But as you go and head up to the boonies,
Try real hard and don't act like loonies!
Row out and back and drop out your
Pull down your hat and snooze, Dude! Fur sure!
When back to the swamps, promise you'll not bore,
All your family with tales, of Fishermen of Lore!
Written by Dale E. Malone, Wanna
The Great & Wonderful Kahuna wants to know!
Last modified: April 26, 2009