"Way up the river, and by the woods,

My Granmother (Grandma) bait I'll throw.

The boat throws some spray, and I'm off to play,

heading to the spot I know."

"Over the river I slowly troll, the current gently flows.

She slowly rose and hooked her nose,

then back in the drink she goes!"

...that's all!

Over the river to the Lake of the Woods to

Grandmother Muskie's House we go

We'll endure cold trends, and northeast winds,

With snow flurries that will blow:

Gortex, and fleece; and ragwool we'll wear

To ward off the icy blow

Ice in the guides may force us to troll

But we'll be happy as we fish while there

A thump on a glider or 'ripper' on the reel

Will herald the bite we seek

This isn't a trip for the weak of spirit

The fragile or fair weathered meek.

The pictures we take of the monsters we wake

And manage to net this trip

Will hold us 'till Spring through this Damnable "Winter" thing 

And allow us to keep a good grip.

Maybe. As long as there are Muskie Shows, that is. Mudanes rule!!!