THE CALL OF THE GRAN'DADDY 237 



Dere's a small-mout' bass I've feeshed for, seence 

 de Spring of Ninety-two! 



In de shallows I hav foun' heem, where de win'-falls 



spot de lac, 

 In de rock-beds an' de peebles I have seen hes ebon 



back; 

 I hav coax heem wid de pork-rind, wooden plug an' 



buck-tail spoon 

 But he seem to keep as distant as de crazy diving 



loon. 

 He's de Gran'pap of de Small-mout's from away 



before de war 

 He's de same ol' bass dat's fool me many t'ousan' 



tarns before! 



Oh, de hair upon my forehead, she ees gettin' silver 



grey, 

 While de han' she sometam tremble in a warnin' 



kin' of way. 

 Den I knaw, by Gar, I'm trailin' to de limit of my 



boun's 

 An' a step will tak me ovair to de Happy Huntin' 



Groun's, 

 Where I'll trap de same ol' mush-rat; sell de fur 



for what she's wort' 

 Cas' de same ol' line an' feesh-hooks dat I did down 



here on Eart' 



