go back home
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WHOPPERS |
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The fishmeister promised us many whoppers. |
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I got zip though I made lots of poppers. |
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After the trip |
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he said, "Read my lip". |
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We ate at Burger King to appease all the squawkers. |
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jay capachi |
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March, 2008 |
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McCloud Outing |
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October, 2002 |
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A Set of 8 Limericks |
| We’re the Fly Fishers of Grizzly Peak. |
| In our waders downriver we sneak. |
| Evading the crowd, |
| we roll cast the McCloud |
| while the large Rainbows play hide & seek |
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| But listen, did I hear a shout? |
| "Dear Luis, I believe it’s a trout |
| it’s quite a fine catch |
| and one you won't match |
| now darling, let's not see that pout!" |
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| "Armand, did your nymphs fish today?" |
| "I really don’t have much to say." |
| We are spinning our tales |
| of trout big as whales |
| and hooked ones that don’t get away. |
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| It’s five, John’s still holding a net. |
| Cries Shanna, "There’re not back yet? |
| So much for those slackers, |
| we’ve champagne and crackers. |
| Much better than this it can’t get. |
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| Richard’s not ready to quit. |
| He’s certain he’ll soon get a hit |
| in his leaky waders |
| with orange Stimulators |
| from a fat trout that’s lacking in wit. |
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| This Rat-Faced McDougal should do. |
| I’ve tied it especially for you. |
| So David is urging, |
| while something’s emerging, |
| to nibble a gaudy chew. |
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| In spring, summer, winter, and rain |
| It’s fly fishing that keeps us sane. |
| Our drenched camp looks fine |
| as we sip Kirston’s wine |
| while John talks up the next gift exchange. |
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| It’s a late evening’s treat to hear |
| folk music, when we’ve doffed our gear. |
| Mandolin and guitar |
| make the woods ring afar |
| and we listen with gold-ribbed hare’s ears! |
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Kathryn Hughes |
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2/8/03 |
