Those fish they are cunning,
They’re never where I angle,
All day long upon this bank,
A flamin’ worm I dangle.

Change the bait light up a smoke,
Oh, what’s the bloody use?
The longer and longer I sit here,
I’m just takin’ more abuse.

I ponder the use of dynamite,
To help my desperate whim,
One or two sticks is all it needs,
None of them will swim.

If I dip my worms in whiskey,
Ah’ what the heck,
Perhaps it’ll give them strength,
To grab the fish by the neck.

How long can I go on?
Before I catch a fish,
On the river bank with nothing,
But an empty bloody dish.