Sung to the tune of Gilligan's Island.
Just sit right back and you’ll hear a tale
A tale of a fishing trip.
It started on a frozen lake,
And No, I didn’t slip!
Now I’m a bold Ice Fisherman,
My partner brave and sure…
Wrapped in all our winter gear,
The cold we could endure, the cold we could endure.
The wind, it started getting rough,
And blew across the ice,
Which started making cracking sounds,
Trust me it wasn’t nice! Trust me it wasn’t nice!
My gear was all around my holes and bait was on my hooks,
With wigglers
And Waxies too,
And Minnows on small jigs,
The depth finder,
The underwater camera,
Here on the trout lake.
So this is the tale of our fishing trip,
We planned for a long, long time,
We brought with us the best of things,
Catching trout would be sublime.
With our skills and experience,
We gave it all our best.
But to fill our plastic pails,
Was just a futile quest.
No trout, no gills, no crappies too,
Not a single smelly fish.
Would grace itself in my shanty,
No matter how hard I wished!
So on our way back to my home,
I quickly looked around.
And got my hands on lots of Trout
For ten dollars a pound!
