Dad loved fishing on Buckeye Lake!! These are a few poems that He wrote about the fish that He caught!! |
"Catfish" There is no finer treat or dish, Than a platter full of fresh catfish. Rolled in cornmeal, fried up well, My, how deliously they smell. |
Fried in butter, golden brown, Still I know, some folks will frown. But just the same, It's quite a dish, These rolled in cornmeal, fried catfish. |
Now this the best, you caught them all, None too large or none too small. To catch a mess, that was your wish, A mess of speckled, gray catfish. E.H. Coe 1973 |
"White Bass" The white bass ran the feeder, The first two weeks of May. The anglers lined both side the banks, To take a catch away. |
With catches of a hundred, Sometimes more or less. They took away alot of bass, How many we can't guess. |
This happens every year in May, The reason's not quite plain. They run the feeder, every year, And they'll return again. |
This has been going on for years, How many we don't know. But take my word, come May next year, Come try it, for it's so! E.H. Coe 1972 |
"Lunker Bass" There's nothing quite like when you cast, A hook into a lunker bass. To see him make the water's churn, His reputation for to earn. |
He fights you hard, for he must see, If you've got him, or he goes free. He'll break the water, flipping tail, And through the water, he will sail. |
He'll run you out, then slip right back, Trying hard to get the slack To snap your line, and then he'll be, Laughing at you, for he's free. |
So keep tight lines, he's worth the try, And net him as he passes by. Then you can tell of when you cast, Your hook into a lunker bass! E.H. Coe 1972 |
