Deep blue

Fish on the bay,
I go for bream in the sea.
Into them I stick, oh yeah
the point oh so boldly.

I nabbed a shad and got it boned. . .
had a fish fry,
then the point I honed.

I can spear food fish,
I can spear food fish.
In sound I seek vittles tasty. . .
see in water clear.
Oh, I can spear food fish,
eat sweet food fish.
The mud’s kinda mucky, hazy;
of that I steer clear.

Got a few
on the last boat ride
out on the main. . .ono. . .
rolling slowly on the tide.

Brook trout, you see,
is not my yen.
When I get dry,
much beer; I’m drunk and then. . .

I can spear food fish,
I can spear food fish.
Dive down to seek vittles tasty. . .
pee in water clear.
Oh, I can spear food fish,
eat sweet food fish.
And when I get lucky, baby,
piscine feast is near

I spear the food fish in the brine, yeah,
I spear the food fish with the tines like razors.
I spear the food fish with the tines,
I spear the food fish.
I spear the food fish, yeah!

I can spear food fish,
I can spear food fish.
Dive down to seek vittles tasty,
but water ain’t clear.
Oh, I can’t spear food fish—
feel my foot rip.
The water’s too mucky—maimed me.
With fishline that’s near,
I stitch, then swig beer.