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Eva' fishin' much? It's good.
Sunshine in sky, shake in a wood,
Down on riva' bank jus' wait an' wish
I could ketch im hurry, that dam fish;
Take 'im home, cook 'im, an' eat im.

Sometimes it's ketch 'im right now,
Sometimes don' ketch 'im all day;
But Injun he's sure know how
He could ketch 'im a'right, 'notha way.

Long 'go 'fore whiteman, he's come here,
Ol' Injun use to fishin' with spear.
That kin' o' spear it's make o' stone'
He's got hook too, make o' bone;
But he could ketch 'em plenty fish - sometime.

Sometime he's fishin' on a shore,
Sometime he's fishin' in canoe;
Some day he's ketch 'em plenty more,
Someday it's jus' nothin' do.

Now-days he's got littl' stick, green an' red,
L-o-n-g line, he's wind it up, 'at's how he sed.
It's tie on end littl' fish made o' wood.
Lot's o' hook, seems to me it's no good;
But he's sure ketch 'im b-i-g one, bass.

That bass he's like Injun, mebbe so,
Whiteman's fool 'im, since long 'go.
Spec' so, dam fool, bofe of it,
Cause you can't fool 'im, whiteman,
littl' bit.