"The Fisherman's Dream"—Crooked Timber/Slim Acres
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The Fisherman's Dream
Such a spot I'd never seen to wet a casting line.

The Fisherman's Dream

(Lyrics by Harold A. Pickett; music by Scott Ryan)

I had a dream the other night
While deep in peaceful slumber—
I dreamed I died and travelled on,
For Fate had called my number.
And as I crossed the Great Divide
And hurried on alone,
With eager step I made my way
Into the Land Unknown.

And there, before my very eyes,
Was a grand sight to behold:
I saw a sportsman's paradise
Instead of streets of gold.
Dancing down the mountainside
In the sunset afterglow
A brook was singing on its way
To meet the lake below.

The mossy bank was smooth and green
'Neath the overhanging trees,
While flowers on the mountaintop
Added perfume to the breeze.
The stream was full of finny folk;
I saw them flash and shine.
O, such a spot I'd never seen
To wet a casting line!

And as I stood enraptured there,
I heard a footstep fall,
And coming down the path I saw
An old man, gaunt and tall.
"Please tell me, sir," I cried to him,
"Please tell me, if you will,
Where I can find a rod and reel
So I can try my skill!"

"I need some tackle right away,
No matter what the price;
I never dreamed, when down on earth,
That heaven would be so nice!"
The old man slowly shook his head
And said, "It can't be done;
I'm afraid that you're just out of luck—
You ain't in heaven, son!"