Holiday Fishing Poems

Mike Bass 2000 from another site and his family wrote this:

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a house to put all my stuff in.

On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the forth day of Christmas my true love gave to me four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me seven crank baits cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me eight Quantum reels, seven crank baits cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me nine spools of braid eight quantum reels, seven crank baits cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me, ten drop shot rigs, nine spools of braid, eight Quantum reels, seven crank bats cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me eleven years of B.A.S.S, ten drop shot rigs, nine spools of braid, eight Quantum reels, seven crank baits cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me twelve days with Kevin, eleven years of B.A.S.S, ten drop shot rigs, nine spools of braid, eight Quantum reels, seven crank baits cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

Merry Christmas from the whole Record_Bass_ Hunter family.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by surferman

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me twelve days with Kevin, eleven years of B.A.S.S, ten drop shot rigs, nine spools of braid, eight Quantum reels, seven crank baits cranking, six jerk baits jerking, five lucky crafts, four fishing rods, three dully trucks, two Triton boats and a house to put all my stuff in.

Merry Christmas from the whole Record_Bass_ Hunter family.

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Who the heck is Kevin. I hope he's a bass guide or something. :scared: I'll take the rest, Merry Christmas. :fishing:

An Angler's Christmas


'Twas the night before Christmas and all across the lake
Not a creature was stirring, not even a snake
The stockings were hung in the cabin with care
In hopes they'd be filled with bugs made of deer hair

This angler was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of Pfluegers danced in my head;
Shakespeares and Heddons both old and brand new
All served to disrupt my long winter's snooze,

When down on the dock there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Worried about my Big O's in mint silver flash,
I tore open the door to investigate the splash.

The light reflecting from the nearly full moon
Gave the lustre of mid-day to my Dardevle spoons,
When, what to my shock down the hill should appear,
But a Skeeter bass boat filled with reindeer!
And a portly old fisherman, so lively and quick,
I saw it was the angler we knew as St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his reindeer disembarked,
And he whistled, and shouted, their names he did hark:
"Now, Bagley! now, Paw Paw! now, Norman and Zebco!
On, Arnold! on Rebel! on Jamison and Nebco!
To the top of the steps! to the end of the dock!
Then on to the shore, my grazing herd flock!"

As dry flies that before the stiffest breeze fly,
When they meet with the wind and blow in the sky,
So along the dock the bounders they flew,
Followed by the boat full of tackle, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the shore
Their prancing and pawing and reindeer like roar.
As I drew in my breath, and was turning around,
Up the steps St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in B.A.S.S. gear from head to foot,
And his Ranger Boats cap was blackened with soot;
A bundle of rods he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a trout bum just opening his pack.

But his eyes, they twinkled, his smile was so merry!
His hooks were all sharp, his reels were so cherry!
His Orvis fly rod was as lithe as a bow,
And his hand tied streamer whiter than snow;
A piece of his leader he held tight in his teeth,
And the rest of his line lay coiled like a wreath;

St. Nick the Angler adjusted his belly,
And it flubbered around like a worm made of jelly.
But despite his big girth he could handle a rod
And he had taken his share, in spite of his bod
He slipped in the house with nary a word
As I stared in disbelief at his grazing deer herd.

St. Nick got to work, and with a nod of his face
He gave his approval of my piscatorial cache
He spoke not a word, and went straight to his work,
Filling the stockings with baits made to jerk,
Arbogasts, Helins, Spoonplugs and Skinners
Bass Pro, Cabelas, and multi-blade spinners
The stockings were soon just bursting with treasure
And he threw in a Winston, just for good measure

Then laying his finger aside of his head,
He gave me a nod, and down the steps he fled;
Into his boat he jumped, with its promo decals
And he puttered off out of sight to fish with his pals

But I heard him exclaim, as he trolled out of sight,
"Good fishing to all, and to all anglers, a good-night!"

A Redneck Christmas Fishing Poem

December 02, 2008 by
Elizabeth McGill

Still months away from the fishing season,

while most Christmas trees still hung with lights,

my then husband, took a break from venison,

now dreaming of hooks, and sinkers and bites.

Into town he went in his old Chevrolet,

to hit all the rich neighborhoods.

A camouflaged redneck bent on his way,

to rid the curbs of their thrown away goods.

In and out of the streets at the helm of his truck,

back firing black smoke in the dawn of the day,

hunting for pines that were as big as bucks.

This is a true story, I sadly can say.

It was a sight to see, and rare are the chances,

that ever again I will have to behold,

Christmas trees in concrete, tied into their branches,

cans of dog food each punched full of tiny holes.

Being married to a redneck, I should have known,

to just pretend I had no clue.

Not intervening until something looked to get blown,

stapled and nailed, set fire to, or glued.

He proudly showed me what he had made,

trees with fish bait, all weighted down.

Soon to be dumped into their watery graves,

and all I could say was, "don't get yourself drowned".

I'm sure the fish were happy to see,

a new place they could lay their beds.

It was a good idea, I had to grudgingly agree,

'cause that season we were happily well fed

Bump for the holidays.....enjoy

The 12 days of Fishmas. A guy named Paul Greenberg wrote it. Cool.



THE TWELVE DAYS OF FISHMAS

(An Angler’s Carol)

For the twelve days of Fishmas my true love gave to me:

Twelve drumfish drumming

Eleven stripers eeling

Ten kings a leaping

Nine oysters setting

Eight trout a milting

Seven shad migrating

Six salmon spawning

Five dor-a-do

Four arctic char

Three tautog

Two cuttlefish

And a clam bed in the wind's lee

© Paul Greenberg, 2012