The Kingfishermen
By
Terry Lynn Breig
who fished with her husband for 25 years
August, 1988
Go down to the boat in the chill before dawn with your
Hood pulled up and your fishing boots on
You put up the groceries and check the oil
Cast off the lines, put the coffee to boil
Your muscles are stiff and your hands are all sore, but
You’re gonna make it, you’ve done it before
Take a moment to look at the sun on the rise
The colors exploding, bring light to the skies
But the moment passes, it’s time for the hunt
You pull on your gloves, stand up with a grunt
You rig the lines and toss them all over
Not much hope today, the seasons bout over
The diving plane rises and you start to pull in
Just one magic circle, how long has it been?
In a flash it happens, all lines are tight
Then the tiredness deserts you and you circle right
Shovel ice, a new spoon, damn, we need a new line
We must keep ’um coming and not waste any time
You pull till the sweat runs down your face
And fish blood spatters all over the place
The unhooker box full, a fish flops to the floor
We better unload ‘em and then catch some more
We grin through the sweat and the blood and the work
And then they slow down, we get ready to jerk
The bug line’s our favorite and if we have our way
We’ll be high hook at the end of the day
The boxes are full, we ice some on the deck
The bite’s about over and the boat is a wreck
So we turn the bow home, set the pilot to steer
Here come wind and rain, get the foul weather gear
You sharpen the knife and I’ll get the slicker
I’ll hand them to you cause that way it’s quicker
So in darkness we gut and shovel and pack
Now the rain’s in our face and the pain’s in our back
We’ll do it again in foul weather or fair
We maybe high hook or just get a share
Why we do it? I guess we really don’t know
But before daylight tomorrow we’ll be ready to go