FF@ songs

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OBA Pie

A long, long, time ago. I can still remember how the river, used to make me smile. And I knew one who took the chance, to help me make a decent cast, and maybe we'd be happy for awhile.

But February made me shiver, with every post that was delivered. Bad news on the laptop. so hard to take, make it stop. Can you remember when we cried, for all our flyfish widowed brides? Yes something touched me deep inside, the day, the river died.

So, bye, bye, miss OBA fly. Drove my 2-speed to the Notch but my Ausable was dry. Them claving boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing rain won't come and coffins don't fly. Rain won't come and coffins don't fly.

Did you write A River Runs, and do you have faith in olive duns, if the Wizard tells you so? Now do you believe in cast's that roll? Can dryflys save your mortal soul? Or do you secretly like to nymph real slow?

Well now there's Chinese durascrim. We watch Lefty cast it in the gym. You Splintered your old canes. I still dig those Gillums and Paynes. There was a lonely, deaf, rod-wrappin buck, driftin tweeter flies with trailing shuck. Who warned us we'd be out of luck, the day, the river died.

He started singing......bye, bye, miss OBA fly. Drove my 2-speed to the Notch but my Ausable was dry. Them claving boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing rain won't come and coffins don't fly. Rain won't come and coffins don't fly.

Now six teen years we've been on our own, and browns grow fat on fake pellet stones. But that's not how it used to be. When the PETA came for our Joan and Lee, with a Mac, they trumped from under Gene, there would be no, C&R for, you and me.

Oh, and while Haig-Brown was looking down, the nutter stole his Mustad crown, the courtroom was adjourned. Ken tuc ky, left to burn. And while Richard reads the threads on Clark's. The pigs root homeless in the park, and we swap flys, tied, in the dark, the day, the river died.

We were singing......bye, bye, miss OBA fly. Drove my 2-speed to the Notch but my Ausable was dry. Them claving boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing rain won't come and coffins don't fly. Rain won't come and coffins don't fly.

Helter skelter global warming swelter. Rainmaker gone, nomail for shelter. My river's dry, your's? Falling faaaaaast. BACKcasts landed splat on the grass. Our drift dragged slack through one last pass, with our dentist, on the sidelines, in a cast.

And the Nec-clave air reeked stale haikus, while Colonel fished Iraq sand dunes. We all got up to cast. Oh, but we never got the chance! When the Hecklers tried to take the field. The Roscoe flood refused to yield. Our Creed washed out, your fate was sealed, the day, the river died.

We started singing......bye, bye, miss OBA fly. Drove my 2-speed to the Notch but my Ausable was dry. Them claving boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing rain won't come and coffins don't fly. Rain won't come and coffins don't fly.

So, who's left here in cyberspace? Greg & Mike gone, without a trace. With no time left to start again. So come on: Kat be nimble, Kat be quick! JD, set up a Wikistick, cause Henry FAQs: the newbie's only friend.

Oh as we read her on the page, could there be such Barbarian rage? No Walls set down round hell. Could block our sister's spell. And as the flames climbed high into the night, paradise lost, without a fight, I heard Stephan laughing with delight, the day, the river died.

She was singing......bye, bye, miss OBA fly. Drove my 2-speed to the Notch but my Ausable was dry. Them claving boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing rain won't come and coffins don't fly. Rain won't come and coffins don't fly.


I met a girl from Cornell U.

And asked her for some happy news.

But she just smiled and turned away...


I went down to Spurr's sacred store.

Where I'd heard the Hardy's years before.

But the man there, said the Hardy's, wouldn't play...


And in the stream the stoneflies screamed, the caddis cried, and the mayflies dreamed. But not a wingcase broken. The hatches, no more spoken.

And the three friends I admire most, the striped bass, trout and silver ghost. They caught the last wave for the coast, the day, the river died.

They were singing......bye, bye, miss OBA fly. Drove my 2-speed to the Notch but my Ausable was dry. Them claving boys were drinking whiskey and rye. Singing this will be the day that I die.