Once upon a time in the days of yore,
when the people lived fresh out of legend and folklore,
there was an old geezer with his teeth to the curb:
he had a hook and a line and a sinker and a worm.
Slept in a city that kissed the seashore
woke with a bait and tackle, store trip each morn.
Not a bother, not a lot to say,
that is until you ask about the one that got a w-w-w-way.

Like a tall tale, keep it rod and reel
with his arms stretched out to define the kill.
While the village always listened, believing it was different;
out of eight million stories there was not a single witness.
It was always at the last second when the line snapped
or the boat broke in half from the size of the catch.
Either way the document didn’t to prove that exist
so the locals dismissed the big f-f-f-fish

Billy-goat beard twenty years in the making
carries lures in his brim, carries beer in his waders,
stink like alcohol of all prominent flavors,
carried knives in his vest, carried war in his nature.
Sat among the forest floor critters and pinecones,
could tie a perfect fly with his eyes closed.
Veteran angler on a mission to run:
make all nay-sayers hold t-t-t-tongues

Pale blue moon or fiery orange glow,
red sky at dawn or rain, or hail, sleet, snow,
black storm cloud with the barometric horrors;
the weatherproof sportsman spins yards regardless.
Laugh if you wanna but the dude ain’t stupid,
let it roll off his back like drizzle off plumage,
‘cause he walk with a twinkle in his eye,
like “every dog has his day and today is m-m-m-mine.”

Lyrics submitted by Illogical_Toaster

Fishtales song meanings
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