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From out of Randy's golden throat, there came a joyous yell -- It rumbled o'er the treetops and echo'd 'cross the dell. It struck upon the hillside and rebounded into town; For one of Randy's bobbers had suddenly went down. Then responding to the jeers, he knew he had his wish, For no one on the boat that day, could doubt 'twas Randy's fish. A sneer was curled on Randy's lips, his teeth were clenched in hate, As he made a crude remark to that fish out in the lake. There was ease in Randy's manner as he stepped into his place. There was pride in Randy's bearing and a scowl on Randy's face. His feet were planted on the deck, his arms were tense like steel; And when he'd waited long enough, he yanked his rod and reel. Oh, somewhere on this favored lake the sun is shining bright, The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light. Somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children play, But there is no joy on Little Bass, mighty Rand has missed his prey. Note: This was written on the opening day of fishing in 1998 to commemorate Randy's 13 consecutive misses. A framed, signed, copy of it is hanging on a wall in his log home. |