Talking Fishing Blues

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Woody Guthrie

Woodrow Wilson "Woody" Guthrie (July 14, 1912 – October 3, 1967) was an American singer-songwriter and folk musician whose musical legacy includes hundreds of political, traditional and children's songs, ballads and improvised works. He frequently performed with the slogan This Machine Kills Fascists displayed on his guitar. His best-known song is "This Land Is Your Land." Many of his recorded songs are archived in the Library of Congress. Such songwriters as Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, Bruce Springsteen, John Mellencamp, Pete Seeger, Joe Strummer, Billy Bragg, Jeff Tweedy and Tom Paxton have acknowledged Guthrie as a major influence. more »


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I went down to the fishing hole
And I set down with my fishing pole
Somethin' grabb'd my hook and it got my bait
And jerked me out in the middle of the lake
Some jump
I got sunk, baptized on credit

Fishin' down on th' muddy bank
Felt a pull an' give a big yank
I holed out three old rubber boots
A Ford radiator an' a Chevrolet coop
I handed it in
For National Defence

Settin' in a boat with a bucket of beer
Hadn't caught nuthin' but didn't much care
I guess I was pretty well satisfied
Had my little lady right by my side
Takin' it easy, yeah still waitin'
Worm been gone off-a that hook for a couple of hours

You go fishin', tell y' what to do
Go set down by the grassy dew
Take a piece of string, tie it on yo' pole
And throw it way out in th' middle of th' hole
Find you a good shady tree and then just set down
Go to sleep, forget all about it

Jumped in the river and went down deep
There was a hundred pound cat-fish lying there asleep
I jumped on his back and rode him all aroun'
Saddled him up and I came into town
People came runnin', lookin', dogs a-barkin'
Kids a-squallin'

Stagnate water's a stinkin' thing
Slick on top and all turned green
When the water goes bad, the fish all run
Sit all day and not catch a-one
Mud wallopers, jewgars
A few little suckers

I waded out to a sandy bar
And I caught myself a big alligator gar
Brung him home across my back
Tail was dragging a mile and a half
Flippin' and floppin'
Sold him for a quarter
Shot craps, got in jail

Early one mornin', I took me a notion
To go out a-fishin' in the middle of the ocean
Throwed out my line, I caught me a shark
I didn't get him home 'til way past dark
He's man-eater, tough customer
Just wasn't quite tough enough

Last last night I had me a dream
I was out fishin' in a whiskey stream
Baited my hook with apple-jack
Threw out a drink, drug a gallon back
Done pretty good till the creek run dry
I give the fish back to the finance company

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    Talking Fishing Blues

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