Catfish Hunter Blues

{fingerpicked acoustic guitar introduction,

slow-paced fiddle

swell} There’s an old oak swing on this weathered porch,

Coffee’s hot while the morning’s cool and grey.

A cane pole leaning by the rocking chair,

A quiet little life without a care.

That old pond’s been there all my life,

Watched my kin folk and watched my old hound.

But there’s one old fish I still ain’t caught yet.

He’s got every hook I’ve tried to sneak.

I’m just passing time with the sun on my face,

Watching dragonflies dance all over the place.

Throw another line where the lily pads swish,

Trying to outsmart that old stubborn fish.

They say he’s older than my granddaddy’s boots,

Knows every stump and every root.

I’ll keep coming back ‘til my days are done’ They call him

Catfish Hunter, and he ain’t fooled no one.

He’ll steal my bait and leave my hook,

Like he’s laughing from

beneath the brook.

I’ve tried worms, chicken liver too,

Secret baits and a lucky lure.

Old Earl down the road just grins,

Says, “Son, that fish always wins.”

But every evening when the shadows fall,

I hear that old catfish make his call.

Maybe I don’t need to catch that old king,

Maybe it’s the chase that’s everything.

A front porch, a pond,

and the evening breeze,

Lord, that’s all this old heart needs.

So I’ll keep passing time with a smile on my face,

Thanking the good Lord for this little place.

If I ever catch him,

I’ll shake his fin,

Take a picture, then toss him back again.

’Cause legends belong where the waters run,

Beneath that old setting sun.

As long as this old country boy still breathes,

Me and Catfish Hunter

will keep this friendly feud.

{fiddle and banjo dual fade-out,

closing guitar chord vibrato}