Kevin Perkins
Well-known member
With October just around the corner, a little ditty to get you in the mood...
It’s five am outside and dark as pitch
Alarm clock is blaring, your eyelids twitch
Hit the snooze button, back under the duvet
Why so much noise, and why so early?
Little grey cells slip back in gear
It’s pike fishing time, you shouldn’t be here!
Now in the mad dash, just to get ready
Falls down the stairs over discarded teddy
Stifles a scream, daren’t wake the others
Still fast asleep, all under the covers
Stubbed toe is throbbing, but never mind
Got to get out, it’s pike fishing time!
First outing this year, and everything’s right
Preparations for this went on into the night
New line on reels, new swivels and weights
Into the freezer and pick up dead baits
Fling open front door, and take in deep breath
Frost hits your lungs; nearly chokes you to death
Car is all white, so it’s out with the scraper
Jealous of neighbour, screen’s covered in paper
Set off at last, onto an empty main road
Back in five minutes for rest of your load
Left by the front door so you wouldn’t forget
Surely not a sign of old age, not yet?
Get to the lake and the car park is clear
Pray ‘your’ spot, is empty, unload the gear
In frost whitened grass, no footsteps are seen
Whole place to yourself, like a cat with the cream
Get to the hot-spot and it’s everything out
Boxes torn open and gear strewn about
The baits just don’t seem to go out quick enough
Once all is settled you collect up your stuff
Early excitement is starting to wane
Think about re-casting baits once again
Nah, can’t be bothered, reach for the flask
Not sure you’re really up to this task
Sudden shriek from alarm, the bobbin drops off
Hot coffee down nose, as you spit and you cough
Hand poised over rod, you examine the line
But nothing is moving, a ‘liner’ this time?
Was it a bite? You’re beginning to doubt
But coils in the line are straightening out
And slowly and surely line glides through butt ring
Down in the dark water, something is moving
Bale arm engaged, rod swept over shoulder
A solid resistance, like hitting a boulder
But now it moves off, and the clutch starts to wail
Try pressure to stop it, but to no avail
You think you have lost it, the line goes all slack
But crafty old pike has just doubled back
For a hard fought ten minutes it makes you perspire
Then at last you make progress, the fish starts to tire
Like a small submarine, she sails into the net
A thrash of the tail, and you’re soaking wet
Both hands are needed to heave out your prize
Laid in the soft folds, just look at the size
There’s a tremor of fear as you open that maw
Unhook the small treble in corner of jaw
This must be a PB of that there’s no doubt
Nothing this big has ever come out
You’re really excited, she’s well over ‘twenty’
Reach in your bag, the scale pouch is empty
Polished and ready, it’s left at home on the side,
Next to the camera; that too missed the ride
Looking around you’re still all alone
No one to witness, too late to phone
The one time you wanted to share this great feat
There’s no soul to be seen, you slump in your seat
You look round once more, still no one in sight
No record of capture, that can’t be right
But nor do you want her cocooned in a sack
No, the right thing to do is just slip her back
After all, she’s a lady, and it doesn’t do
To query her age and her measurements too
So back into the water the big old girl goes
‘It’s our secret’ you tell her as you tap your nose
It’s five am outside and dark as pitch
Alarm clock is blaring, your eyelids twitch
Hit the snooze button, back under the duvet
Why so much noise, and why so early?
Little grey cells slip back in gear
It’s pike fishing time, you shouldn’t be here!
Now in the mad dash, just to get ready
Falls down the stairs over discarded teddy
Stifles a scream, daren’t wake the others
Still fast asleep, all under the covers
Stubbed toe is throbbing, but never mind
Got to get out, it’s pike fishing time!
First outing this year, and everything’s right
Preparations for this went on into the night
New line on reels, new swivels and weights
Into the freezer and pick up dead baits
Fling open front door, and take in deep breath
Frost hits your lungs; nearly chokes you to death
Car is all white, so it’s out with the scraper
Jealous of neighbour, screen’s covered in paper
Set off at last, onto an empty main road
Back in five minutes for rest of your load
Left by the front door so you wouldn’t forget
Surely not a sign of old age, not yet?
Get to the lake and the car park is clear
Pray ‘your’ spot, is empty, unload the gear
In frost whitened grass, no footsteps are seen
Whole place to yourself, like a cat with the cream
Get to the hot-spot and it’s everything out
Boxes torn open and gear strewn about
The baits just don’t seem to go out quick enough
Once all is settled you collect up your stuff
Early excitement is starting to wane
Think about re-casting baits once again
Nah, can’t be bothered, reach for the flask
Not sure you’re really up to this task
Sudden shriek from alarm, the bobbin drops off
Hot coffee down nose, as you spit and you cough
Hand poised over rod, you examine the line
But nothing is moving, a ‘liner’ this time?
Was it a bite? You’re beginning to doubt
But coils in the line are straightening out
And slowly and surely line glides through butt ring
Down in the dark water, something is moving
Bale arm engaged, rod swept over shoulder
A solid resistance, like hitting a boulder
But now it moves off, and the clutch starts to wail
Try pressure to stop it, but to no avail
You think you have lost it, the line goes all slack
But crafty old pike has just doubled back
For a hard fought ten minutes it makes you perspire
Then at last you make progress, the fish starts to tire
Like a small submarine, she sails into the net
A thrash of the tail, and you’re soaking wet
Both hands are needed to heave out your prize
Laid in the soft folds, just look at the size
There’s a tremor of fear as you open that maw
Unhook the small treble in corner of jaw
This must be a PB of that there’s no doubt
Nothing this big has ever come out
You’re really excited, she’s well over ‘twenty’
Reach in your bag, the scale pouch is empty
Polished and ready, it’s left at home on the side,
Next to the camera; that too missed the ride
Looking around you’re still all alone
No one to witness, too late to phone
The one time you wanted to share this great feat
There’s no soul to be seen, you slump in your seat
You look round once more, still no one in sight
No record of capture, that can’t be right
But nor do you want her cocooned in a sack
No, the right thing to do is just slip her back
After all, she’s a lady, and it doesn’t do
To query her age and her measurements too
So back into the water the big old girl goes
‘It’s our secret’ you tell her as you tap your nose
delightful verse.
